


FALLOUT: BINDS

by 3rd_r8_rightr



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-10-16 01:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17540492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rd_r8_rightr/pseuds/3rd_r8_rightr
Summary: The life of a farmer turns around when he finds a child synth in the wasteland. With the help of his best friend and some new ones along the way, he'll learn the warmth that comes with a family and what he'll do to protect what's his.[Chapter 11 is coming soon]Update 10 April 2019: Hello, hello! So, I just want the few peeps who keep up with this series that no, I haven't shelved this fanfic. I've just been super busy IRL, working on a little somethin'-somethin' for the Borderlands 3 reveal, and getting over back-to-back URT infections. The next chapter is still in the works. Chapter 11 will be ~7 pages with each page taking a look at one part of a day to help move the story forward by about a week for Chapter 12. Chapter 12 will be in the typical format and I'm looking to post both chapters when they're done! If I can, I might add Chapter 13 to that pool too. Chapter 13 is looking to start opening up to more of Apollo's lore and backstory with some Naomi.Sorry for the delay :^*





	1. LIKE ANY OTHER DAY

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, after mulling it over, I decided to post the first chapter of a really big project of mine to test the waters. This has been something of mine I've been adding to since this past summer--around the time Fallout 76 was announced. 
> 
> So, for starters, let's talk about the world. This takes place in my version of the Commonwealth and has some rules set up. The protagonist of the story is not the Sole Survivor/ General. He's your average wastelander. He lives in Sanctuary Hills--now New Sanctuary--about ten years after the events of FO4. The General is not seen and only referenced. Their choices regarding the main factions were...
> 
> 1) The Minutemen were left in charge of managing settlements and trade routes.  
> 2) The Brotherhood of Steal was ordered to remove the Prydwyn from Commonwealth airspace but were allowed to keep Boston Airport as their own base, but rarely meddle with others'.  
> 3) The Railroad exists and has more of a "public" approach. A sect of them help try spin pro-synth feelings, but a more secretive sect still helps synths get out of the territory, because...  
> 4) The Institue is still a mystery. There's rumors and stories of the General having stepped foot inside, but no one knows anything for sure. No one's even sure they're still around, but the Commonwealth is still divded on their feelings for them and synths. 
> 
> The way the world is set up is that all factions are present and the General managed to find common ground to keep the others from killing each other. It's probably a little controversial that the Minutemen ended up being the "order" in the wasteland, but this does bend lore a little to make it work for the sake of the story. That's not always bad, right? 
> 
> At the end of the day, this is supposed to be a feel good story and I promise it ends happily. Throughout the story, I want to reference more of the protagonist's past and how it shaped him to be who is today, but he didn't go in alone. He has some amazing friends and he'll make some new ones too.  
> I want to save space here to thank two very important friends who have been helping me out with the process, reading my early drafts, and letting me bounce ideas off of them.
> 
>  **KingMeghren:**[AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingMeghren/pseuds/KingMeghren) | [Tumblr](http://kingmeghren.tumblr.com/)  
>  **MaxRat:** [Tumblr](http://amaflaire.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Please, check out their own works and content. They are two, talented, lovely individuals! Thanks for all the help in getting this off the ground or helping me out when I would overthink audiences' reactions to certain scenes and ideas. Mwah :^*
> 
> Have fun reading and I hope you enjoy the story! 
> 
> _Quick Notes._  
>  **•** This fic is rated **MATURE** for language, some depictions of violence, and reference to drug and alcohol use.  
>  **•** Mexican Spanish is spoken throughout the fic. It is not needed as I will try to use context to help explain the protagonist's actions and thoughts, but it will help.  
>  **•** Character list will expand and go into detail as more characters are introduced and named.  
>  **•** At the end of the day, this is a happy, feel-good fic with a happy ending. Just cuz it's the apocalypse doesn't mean it has to be dreary and dull.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo starts his day like always, but thinks that it's time for a change of scenery. Over some down time, he talks it over with his best friend, Naomi Bishop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, feel free to skip this, but I'll be using the notes page to explain some of my thought processes for the chapters. 
> 
> \---
> 
> This fic was started shortly after I finished my playthru of Fallout 4--which I only finished when FO76 had been announced. I loved the twist of being gifted Shaun by Father at the end of the story. 
> 
> Apollo went thru interesting changes. Very early in the story, he was the Sole Survivor: a Latino man named Rudolfo I think? Early in his journey, he dropped his given name and picked up the name Apollo (after a fake brand of cigarettes I invented for the fic). He was originally more goofy, a little stupid. After giving it some though, I changed that idea and re-did his story; no longer the sole survivor and instead a wastelander (you'll learn his full story in the fic, but his nickname still comes from those smokes). 
> 
> Naomi changed too, actually! She was originally planned to be a minor character named Sera Solana that would appear sometimes and a big plot twist was that she was going to be sort of against him. In the end, I changed that completely (I went with the name Naomi cuz I realized I liked the sound of it better and Bishop has sort of two meanings in this case [but that could be a spoiler!]) and she's now his best friend and confidant and I can't wait to explore more of their relationship and how they met!
> 
> \---
> 
>  **Update (26 Jan 19)** : Added a quick description for both Apollo and Naomi. For reference, Apollo is brown and Naomi is black.  
>  **Update 2 (5 Feb 19)** : This fic was originally posted as separate works per chapter until a friend pointed out that AO3 actually does have a chapter system. The fic is now one large post and chapters will correctly be added.

_"Cuéntame de la vida que hiciste para ti."_

_"¿Para nosotros?"_

_"Para ustedes."_

**FALLOUT** **: BINDS**

**01//LIKE ANY OTHER DAY**

"Good morning, Commonwealth. This is Radio Freedom, the voice of the Minutemen. It is now six in the morning—" 

A hand reaches over and turns the dial. Music fills the shack instead of the hourly report now…  

Whoever's sitting on the bed gets up and the mattress finds its form again. Steps sound across the creaking wooden floor and a door opens leading into a cramped bathroom (or whatever passes for a bathroom these days). The light bulb hanging from the ceiling is twisted deeper into its fixture, illuminating the space. A blue bottle—one of two; the other green—is pulled from the floor and the top screws off, pouring a bit of water into a silver bowl nestled in the non-working sink before it gets placed back down. Hands cup some water and splash a face that takes a moment to study its reflection in the mirror missing a chunk of its corner…

_This is Apollo's face._

He looks at himself, feeling his face as he passes a hand over the stubble growing over his dark brown skin. With a scrap of an old rag hanging on the sink, he wipes the crust out of his eyes and the grime off his face and mouth. Putting it back down, he looks at his hair. Wetting his hands to slick it back is the only real thing he knows what to do with the shoulder-length, greasy mess. Finally, he picks his toothbrush up and wets its bristles in the bowl before dabbing it in a small tin can that's lazily covered, and he brushes his teeth with the crude, homemade toothpaste. Rinse, spit, reset. He takes another moment to look at himself before emptying the bowl into the green bottle this time.

Done with that, he twists the bulb to loosen it and kill the light before he leaves his bathroom and goes back to his bed. Sitting down on it, he reaches over and grabs his steel-toed boots to slip them on, tying them tightly. Standing back up, he then buttons his favorite red and orange flannel shirt (and rolls his sleeves too), giving it a nice pat down. He tugs the tight compression shirt underneath his flannel to get its sleeves in place (and notes that his jeans could use a soak one of these days).

His 10mm pistol is on his night stand in its crude leather holster. He reaches over, grabbing it to wrap around his right thigh, keeping it in reaching distance. He looks at his sheathed machete as it lies against his bed, and reaches for it too, but… decides against it. Now that he's done getting dressed, he gets up to turn his radio off and finds that lucky gray knit cap of his tossed on his table.

With that, Apollo is off to start his day. He steps out the front door of his shack…

_… and into New Sanctuary._

New Sanctuary is an inspirational place. From rubble and ruins, rust and debris, a few people banded together to remake it. It took time and hard work from everybody, but New Sanctuary is a powerful settlement that slowly expands its territory; horizontally, making more land fertile and crop-ready and tapping into the river that cuts through, and vertically, adding onto the foundations of the old and destroyed houses to house settlers and store a surplus of food, drinking water, ammo, and other supplies. New Sanctuary's clinic is probably one of this best in this part of the Commonwealth, stocked with medications and chems. Electricity and water are more than abundant and virtually never an issue for the citizens and raiders don't even dare trying to hit such a strong settlement—especially when it's defended by the Minutemen. Sooner or later, New Sanctuary will start to compete with massive cities like Diamond City and Goodneighbor.

As he walks down the only real road, he passes other shacks that farmers also live in. Farmers, like Apollo, get housed in the shacks all to themselves (and at most, one or two other people). These are scattered on the ground floor of New Sanctuary and offer more privacy than those living in the tower with the only true tradeoff being on the ground. His job is working in the fields and helping tend to New Sanctuary's bountiful crops and harvests—specifically: _corn_. Most of New Sanctuary is sleeping still and only the farmers and provisioners are up at this hour, but that's fine with him—he finishes his day a little earlier than, say, the shop owners or people in charge of maintenance and gets right back to his shack.

 _"Good morning, settler,"_ a young woman greets him with a smile. Her old timey duster and laser rifle are giveaways that she's a provisioner—a Minuteman assigned to New Sanctuary's supply line. She moves supplies—food, goods, raw materials, caps, and mail—between Minutemen-aligned settlements with her brahmin and, if needed, people can follow if they would like extra protection on the road. Amazing to think her route starts all the way from the Alley in Boston—a supply hub along with Bunker Hill in the outskirts of Cambridge and the Castle in South Boston.

 _"Mm,"_ he replies. That's all she's going to get out of him. He isn't much of a talker, preferring to keep things short and simple (at least, with most others).

Still smiling, she turns to speak to her brahmin. "Let's finish our delivery and then we can lie down for a little, Belle," she pets her on one of her faces and they continue on their way. They'll most likely sleep for a few hours under some shade before they're out on the road to make their way back to the Alley and she'll start her journey again in the morning.

Apollo keeps his hands in his pockets, still busy thinking about what he wants to get done at work today. When he comes to the fields, he opens a gate to get to his assigned plot, giving it a little push to close behind him. He sees some of the other farmers already getting to work and they greet each other amongst the group and greet the others as they start to arrive. When they do greet him, he lazily nods (seeing as he knows none of their names and he's positive they don't know his). He grabs his tools from the nearby tool shed and, after inspecting them, gets to work.

_And that's Apollo's day._

He checks the crops, removes anything that shouldn't be growing, waters them as needed. While he tends to a plot of corn, New Sanctuary grows everything: tatos, razorgrain, mutfruit, gourds, melons, silt beans, and tarberries just to name a few (there was even an unsuccessful stint with apple seeds from Rivet City in the Capital Wasteland). Some people even devote their time to growing unique fungi to help make chems for the clinic. Flowers are also popular, used in some recipes or to make herbal supplements that some swear by. No one is sure why, but it's thought that the rich brahmin fertilizer, nutritious compost, and tender care of the farmers make these crops grow so quick and big… … That, _or_ , the _absolute_ fuck-ton of radiation that still lingers after the Great War (it could also be a mix of both, who knows).

Apollo, working with a few water breaks, doesn't even notice the clock turn from six to seven, eight, nine… _ten in the morning_. The sun warms New Sanctuary nicely by this point (and most of the Commonwealth is chilly this time of the year, so this kind of warmth is cozy). People are moving around now, shops are open. Some members of the maintenance crew are going around examining the pylons and wires that power New Sanctuary, some are checking on the water pumps and filters.

Someone whistles to get Apollo's attention: _"Hey, buddy!"_

He turns around, knowing who it's going to be. Pulling on the fence is New Sanctuary's very own doctor: Naomi Bishop. She waves, wiggling her fingers. He nods his head upward and stands from his crouching position to walk over to her.

"How's farming going?" she crosses her arms and leans on the fence.

"Same shit, different day," he wipes his hands on a bandana he keeps in his back pocket. "What about you? "

"Same shit, different day," she teases. "Clinic's been open for a little bit and no one's needed me, so I thought I'd visit my _best_ friend this side of the Commonwealth and see if he wanted to take five with me!"

Apollo looks over his shoulder… Figuring he's done enough to warrant a break, he shrugs. "Sure."

"Yes! Perfect! Come on."

Apollo tidies his tools, stashing them amongst his crops (seeing he'll be back in a bit to finish his work) before he slips through the gate to meet with Naomi (one farmer gets the attention of another though, and they whisper something between them about Apollo walking off with a beauty like Naomi).

"So, what's up?" he asks her, while he keeps hands in his pockets (by default) as they walk

"Ah, nothing," she waves him off. "I'm expecting a patient, but I'll probably be busy all day after, so I wanted to pass the time with you."

"Hm. I'm honored," he deadpans.  

"You should be!" she turns, tapping his nose with her index finger.   

They talk a bit more as they come up to the clinic, on the loop of New Sanctuary. The iconic red building often gets mistaken for a barn, but this is probably one of the best places to get medical attention in the Commonwealth. Naomi unlocks the door, slipping in first and Apollo follows, pulling on it behind him. She leads them to her so-called receptionist's desk where she does light work while waiting for patients to come in (her actual office-slash-bedroom upstairs is where she does more serious work and keeps all her patients' records locked). She read in an old magazine once that a receptionist is the face of a company and she feels more casual this way, finding it easier to be friends with her patients when she isn't hidden in her room. Besides the desk and chairs, there're three doors to the back—the supply room (with a locked door leading outside), an exam room, and an operating room. Apollo's been in all three and they're all pretty tight and cramped, but Naomi doesn't take that much space either.     

She takes a mutfruit from a bowl on her desk and tosses it to Apollo, who catches it. "You had breakfast, right?" she asks, removing her lab coat and putting it on her desk before they both take seats across from each other.

"No, I was in a rush," he lies, biting into the fruit.

She calls his bullshit: "Coy, come on, you're never late to anything! I keep telling you, you have to eat something in the morning!"

"You know I'm never hungry in the mornings, Nai," he lies again.

"It's good for you! You know, those rations _will_ go bad if you toss them in a box and forget them," she crosses her arms.

He thinks of the box in his shack where he tosses his rations in. "I… eat them…" (that's half true).

She looks at him, disapprovingly. "Well, don't come to me if you start passing out and falling face first into the mud in the fields. … But actually, do come see me immediately if that happens," she adds, seriously.  

He bites into the juicy mutfruit again.

"So, anything interesting going on in that head of yours?" she asks, reclining in her chair and putting her feet on the desk. She's wearing a loose long sleeve and her own jeans are cuffed at the bottom. She lets her tight coils of hair down, ruffling them with a hand for some lift. They bounce on top of her black skin.

"I don't know. There's nothing to complain about, really?" he shrugs, "I've been thinking of that thing I told you the other day, still."

"Oh? The thing you were super vague about and gave absolutely zero detail on?" she raises her eyebrows.

He blinks a few times being called out like that. "… Well—it isn't anything important… I was just thinking about how I kind of want to leave New Sanctuary. … F-For a few days," he clarifies.

"Going on another one of _Coyote's Famous Expeditions_?" she asks, rubbing her hands together.

"I'm still thinking. I haven't decided," he scratches his head through his knit cap, "If I do it, it might be soon."

"Where would you even go?"

"Just… somewhere not here," he vaguely replies. _Again_.  

Naomi smiles widely. _"Ha!"_ she smacks her thigh, "I knew it! _The Alley!_ " she teases, knowing _exactly_ what goes down at the Alley.

"Shut up," he glances away.

"Hey, hey, I'm all for the Alley! Just… you know, don't go getting—"

"Yeah, sure—what about you?" he changes the topic immediately out of embarrassment. "You have anything going on?" he asks, taking another bite of the mutfruit,

She huffs and puts her hands behind her head. "Fine, whatever. It's not like I support you one hundred percent," she sighs for dramatic effect. " _Hm._ So, stock is doing good; the fungus we're growing out back is going to make a _lot_ of chems," she gives a thumbs up. "No major accidents lately. Nobody's broken a bone, just some bumps and bruises… Someone's been complaining of a toothache, so I _hope_ there's something I can do to fix it, but I might just have to pull the damn thing out," she gestures pulling on pliers and clicks her tongue. "Oh—fun fact: I only have _two_ —" she holds up two fingers "—cases of people with lice and the month is about to end, so, hey, new record?" she sounds pretty happy about that.

He just takes a bite of his mutfruit, practically finishing it.

"… Oh, dear _God_ ," she drops her arms and hangs her head back. "When did I get so boring, Coyote!" she rolls her eyes at herself, picking her head back up. "Fuck, I wish I could go on trips like you… Sometimes it sucks being the only doctor here… And dentist. … _And barber…_ " she whispers the last part while lazily wrapping a bit of her hair around a finger, squinting off to the side (New Sanctuary's clinic is also a dental clinic and a barbershop—true convenience).

"You can come with me if you want," Apollo offers, "Just leave some bandages in a box outside and write down 'one per person'."  

Naomi sighs, pulling her finger out of her hair, "No, we tried that before, remember?"

He _does_ remember: "Ah. Right. Greedy bastards… … Well, look, if it matters, I think you deserve some time off. You work nonstop making sure people here don't bleed out or let their limbs rot and have to cut them off. It's fucked you can't even get someone else to cover for you. Wasn't that school started at the Eighty-Eight for this kind of thing? Can't you ask them for help?"

She groans. "Even if I sent a letter to the Eighty-Eight, I'd have to wait to get a response back and there's still no guarantee they'd send someone."

Apollo shakes his head just a tiny bit. "Bullshit. A-And there's really nothing you can do? It's crazy that you of all people can't get some free time and take a break from… all of this."  

"Aw, Coy, you're too sweet…" Naomi smiles and feels her face, having her ego fed. "Tell you what: if you want to take me on vacation, invite me to Nuka-World! There's Ferris wheel, a-a rocket! Rides! A river of Nuka-Cola, I think? I hear people from all over the country come just to trade and sight see. Imagine the cool shit we could find!"

He squints a little. "Are we talking about the same place run by all those guys who dress up like animals and fuck each other?"

She exhales through her teeth, " _Okay_ , that was just a… _third_ of the people in charge—I-I mean, it _used_ to be pretty awful, sure, but the General made it… you know… not _as_ shitty of a place," she shrugs, turning her palms up. "Plus! This is _my_ hypothetical vacation! If people want to bang each other dressed up as… whatever they hell they dress as, then who am I to judge? I just want to go and have some fun!"

Apollo blinks. Right as he opens his mouth to say something, there's a rhythmic knock at the door (and a scrape) and Naomi perks up. "Oh! Just a second!" She leans in to whisper while she pulls her hair back and back into a ponytail, _"Shit, I-I'm sorry, Coy, I think I—"_

He puts his hand up. _"Don't worry, Nai,"_ he completely understands.   

She gets up from her seat and slips her coat back on, tidying herself to look more professional. He stands up to follow her out. When she opens the door, she greets a cute looking couple by their names (Apollo _really_ doesn't know anyone here because he has no idea who they are). She lets them in, asking how they're feeling today as she and Apollo make eye contact—he silently says goodbye as he lets himself out.

He makes his way back to his plot of corn, thinking about that trip… It's enticing… He'd never admit to Naomi's face that it's the Alley, though. He slips again through the gates and gets back to work (tossing the core of his mutfruit into the stalks of corn). A few more hours pass and like the other famers, he eventually packs his tools and takes them back to the tool shed.

 _"Hazlo—no pierdes nada. Puedes irte un par de días…"_ he thinks to himself, closing the tool shed doors… He grabs a drink of water from a nearby pump before he leaves his plot, heading back to his shack.


	2. UNLIKE ANY OTHER DAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo makes his way across the Commonwealth for a few days of alone time, but things get strange when he walks in on a standoff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter two of the fic. This is honestly half-important, half-"tour guide" to this region of the Commonwealth. It'll be explored some more in another chapter, but this first arc of the fic will probably stay in New Sanctuary for the better part of it. It was interesting trying to think of a way for the Commonwealth to exist ugh... "peacefully"? It rubbed me the wrong way that the game ends with you having to eliminate somebody. Perhaps it's controversial that I left the Minutemen in charge of some of the bigger aspects of the Commonwealth and maybe the irony is missed on me cuz I think a major point of the series is the inherit dangers of government and superpowers clashing heads together. … **or something**. I personally like the Minutemen and I'd trust them. 
> 
> As for Apollo, I really enjoyed getting to write out his thoughts in Spanish. He's Latino and I'm really happy about that fact. I myself am Latino IRL and I love writing Latino characters. It's a way for me to sort of connect with my culture and explore it some more and that's super evident if you ever check out my other stuff! Later on, you'll see that I bend some more lore to fit Apollo's backstory and namesake. 
> 
> \---
> 
>  **Update (5 Feb 19):** A friend pointed out that I was posting these incorrectly and taught me how to use the chapter function properly. The fic will be compiled in one large collection now!  
>  **Update 2 (8 March 19):** Added a small line of information about New Sanctuary.

**02//UNLIKE ANY OTHER DAY**

After work and taking care of some other things yesterday, Apollo spent time thinking about his trip while cleaning his gun and decided to do it. He swung by Naomi's clinic in the evening and let her know what was happening (he always lets her know when he leaves town). She—being Naomi—was actually ready for him to tell her and gave him something: _a few capsules._ Something special just for him.

Music plays from his radio as he stands his table and prepares a bag of gear for his trip. He stashes some food, water, caps, ammo, and a small leather wrap in it. He examines the capsules in a bottle, giving them a little shake. He knows what these are, but doesn't need to take them now, so into his bag they go. He pats and feels his holster wrapped on his thigh and then looks for his machete.

 _"De ninguna manera te dejaría,"_ he tells it, picking it up from the floor by his bed. He slips it—sheathed—onto his back before putting his bag over it. Cleaned up, dressed, and already to go, he just puts his lucky gray knit cap on, and then it's out the door. He locks his shack up and heads down the road. Seeing as he'll only be gone a day or two, he knows his crops will survive without him, and plus, there's no need to explain himself to the other farmers (not the he would have anyways). If his boss—a woman in charge of all of New Sanctuary's farming—asks, Naomi can cover for him (she's known her well longer than he has).  

Waking up this early is hardwired into him by this point after doing it daily for so many years. Plus, he thinks it's better to leave at this hour without so many people around. One time someone tried being friendly with him and asked where he was headed, and he told the guy, _"How about you mind your own fucking business?"_ Of course, in Apollo's defense, he was only in New Sanctuary for a few months at that point and he doesn't ask anyone where _they're_ going when they leave with a bag, so why should people ask him? _… He never saw that guy again…_

He comes to the iconic bridge of New Sanctuary (which looks gorgeous after its reconstruction a few years ago) at the entrance of town. Leaving home and setting foot in the Commonwealth, it's just now a man, his bag, and his weapons.

… The _actual_ journey won't be that interesting.

He should arrive to the Alley by evening and, with the Minutemen patrolling the routes, it's not that dangerous so long as he stays on those mains roads. New Sanctuary is in, what the Minutemen refer to as, the Western Region. Being supplied by the Alley, getting to the hub is just following the supply line from New Sanctuary to the Rocket (a repurposed filling station from before the Great War that has some merchants and traveling traders), to Concord (a rebuilt city and Minutemen base that doesn't see too much action), to Starlight (an old school drive-in that's great fun for people looking to forget for a bit the hell that is the Commonwealth) and finally to the Alley. The Alley itself consists of a few blocks that were merged together in the Fens area of Boston where huge amounts of material are received, stored, and distributed from, making it a vital location for the Minutemen. It, Bunker Hill supplying the Eastern Region, and the Castle supplying the Southern Region make up the crucial Trade Triangle of the Commonwealth.

 _The Alley has also become a_ major _gathering place for certain people._

Apollo reaches the Rocket in no time—it's literally next door to New Sanctuary. Merchants haven't even opened their stands yet, but the Rocket is a nice stop for travelers. Inside the actual station's shop, there's usually someone who cooks and sells food to visitors (either a bowl of stew with some vegetables or a bowl of stew with bits of mystery meat, but you're not allowed to ask what the meat is), but that's also closed right now. He does see a guard as she patrols the road in front of the Rocket, though.

 _"Morning,"_ a second guard—another woman—approaches her.

 _"Morning, beautiful…"_ she replies sounding sleepy.

The second guard giggles, _"You sound like you could use some shut eye…"_

_"No, no, I'm fine…"_

_"Go back upstairs. My shift is starting, anyways."_

_"I can take some overtime if it means I get to look at you a bit more…"_

_"Don't be silly…"_ the second guard pushes a bit of the first guard's hair behind an ear, _"Get some sleep. You look exhausted."_

 _"Okay, but—"_ she yawns _"—only because I want to… I'll see you later then…"_ she kisses the second guard. She's going to head to some stairs behind the shop and head up. On the station's rooftop, they constructed a few rooms that are free to rent out for some quick shut eye for the distant travelers (New Sanctuary doesn't offer any rooms to rent out, so this is the next closest place).

Apollo doesn't stay too long—as soon as he arrived, he's already leaving the Rocket and keeping to himself. He passes a traveler coming to set up shop with his own brahmin and a few of his own guards.  

Concord is next. It's what remains of city ruins that use to be a hotspot for raiders and thugs, but ever since the Minutemen established these trade routes, it's under their watch. For as spacious as the city is, only a few people live here (at least nowhere near as many as New Sanctuary). By population, it's a village if New Sanctuary were a city. The Museum of Freedom in town is also a Minutemen recruiting office and their sort of home-away-from-home from the Castle. The museum offers tours and talks about Minutemen history and values in hopes of getting people to join up (but it's not that effective).  

Apollo keeps on the main street with his hands in his pockets. A few people eye him as he walks, but they figure if he came from New Sanctuary, he's just passing through. Moving through Concord doesn't take as long either and he's once again trekking through the wasteland, following the destroyed roads. Decorated with broken stoplights, branches, rocks, cars, and the occasional dead bloatfly, it's nice to be out in the open. He passes a cute little diner along the way that he's been to once before with Naomi (they had _okay_ food). What gets his attention is a rusted motorcycle that's been there forever ( _"Si solo…"_ he thinks, fantasizing about what it must have been like to ride one). He reaches the back of Starlight after some more walking and, unsurprisingly, people are working this early in the morning.

Starlight is all about the entertainment business. It's a flat lot with a massive screen at one end that shows _actual_ movies. Of course, there's only two movies that ever play: a funny one about a whacky Mr. Handy with a few scenes missing and the other is a scandalous love story between a capitalist mogul and a communist spy that doesn't have the first few minutes and they rotate which one shows every week. The stage built low in front of the screen is relatively new. _'Actors'_ (if you want to call them that) sometimes do a live showing of theatrical _'performances'_ (if you want to call them that). Apollo thought it was shit when he came with Naomi for her birthday (when she used to be able to take a day off), but even in the apocalypse, people still want to have some laughs. Besides that, there's the bar that offers some prepared meals and a few drinks and a lot of merchants hang by to barter. A greenhouse grows crops that all get cooked in said bar and some kind of apartment building was built over time to house the workers.

Apollo hangs outside the lot, taking a spot by some building behind the screen. The restaurant is all the way at the front side of the lot, and they make you buy something to sit inside (the assholes). He drinks some water, takes a bite of jerky… He rests up for a little, thinking about the Alley… It's been a while since he's been, but he really likes going. He always come back home in a _much_ better mood. There's lots to see there; the merchants that come to trade have some of the most interesting things to trade from all over the Commonwealth and the night life can be entertaining. He's met some interesting people there too—a pair of traders with some great goods between them, a smooth-talking ranger from the west, some nervous weirdo who wore a _hooked collar_ of all things, and a rugged fellow from a place called _"Ottawa"_ (wherever the hell that is). Of course, he doesn't remember any of their names and has never seen any them since, but it's all about those experiences, right?     

Next up is Lexington, just over the train tracks. Now, Lexington is a weird place. There's an old super market turned fortress to store the city's food on one side, an abandoned factory that use to make cars on the other, and an old retirement home that was turned into a clinic somewhere nearby. People have made the apartments sprinkled around the city their homes again and Lexington does get a fair amount of business (New Sanctuary and Concord sometimes do trade with Lexington and vice versa), even if it looks like shit in some places. For some reason, though, they refuse to align themselves with the Minutemen even though they'd be amazing candidates (Naomi's talked about how nice it would be to have a clinic like Lexington's in the same region, so she could get a doctor or two to cover for her in New Sanctuary).

_"Excuse me."_

Apollo eyes a guard that tries stops him with his hand held out and open.

"I don't think I've seen you in these parts," he says. "Where are you headed?"

 _"Through?"_ he lifts his shoulders (but keeps his hands in his pockets) as steps around the guard.   

"… Well, alright. Don't… cause any trouble," the guard tells him even though he's not listening. 

He doesn't really care for the city—he's only ever cut through it when he goes to the Alley. He forgets it even exists sometimes.

Leaving Lexington and he comes to the last stretch of his journey: the eerie remains of Cambridge… It's not as bad near the edge of the city, but as he gets closer and closer to the ruined buildings, he feels… _uneasy_. Cambridge is too quiet—not even raiders hang around here. He doesn't know how provisioners walk through this ghost town willingly. Naomi knows of the area better, so she's told him the stuff she's heard, but most popular scary story that everyone in the Commonwealth knows about is of _the Institute_. It goes that it's located somewhere deep within the barely-standing ruins of the Cambridge Institute of Technology, but no one has ever actually found a way to get inside it… There's a rumor of the General of the Minutemen having stepped inside once, but it's just that: _a rumor_.

The silence, the emptiness of Cambridge… For a split second, a feral ghoul would make good company right about now.

 _"No te espantes, pendejo,"_ he tells himself when he thinks of drawing his pistol. _"Ya mero llegarías…"_ he looks towards the river up ahead. Once he clears this part of the city, it's a skip across a bridge and then he's officially at the Alley. He stops at a bench and pulls his bag off. Balancing it on the back of the seat, he opens it looks for those capsules Naomi gave him. He should take them now so they're in his system by the time he gets in. He pops two and washes them down with some water—

_"No! No, I am getting through!"_

He perks up and looks for where that noise is coming from, automatically stashing his capsules and water back into his bag and sipping it back on.

_"You best put that fucking gun down! You don't even know how to use it!"_

_"No! I did not come this far to be stopped by surface-dwellers!"_

_"Just put the gun down! We can talk about it!"_

_"I am not stopping for anyone! I am going through! Move or I_ will _shoot!"_

It sounds close… Real close. He moves over to the source of the commotion to see what's going on and—

 _"¡Ay!"_ he yelps as he almost walks in on this standoff. He pulls himself back and hides behind a destroyed trash can. _"Chingada… ¿Ahora qu_ _é?"_ he asks himself. He sees two men— _raiders_ , probably—standing across a third man wearing a bizarre poncho with its hood up.

"I said put the gun down!"

"This doesn't have to end badly for anyone!"

"Get out of my way, you irradiated inbreeds!"

"In- _what—_ "

"I said put your fucking gun down!"

Apollo eyes the man in the poncho, shaking and sounding a little hysterical…

"Don't make us fucking shoot you—"

Someone _pulls_ their trigger. Apollo ducks behind his cover—

_"Fuck!"_

_A second shot._

_A third shot._

_A moment of silence…_

"Ah, God fucking damn it…"

He pops his head back out…

"F-Fuck—I—"

"Don't!"

 _"Mierda…"_ Apollo mutters. The man lies in the dirt, shot dead. His body twitches as he bleeds out… If the poncho wasn't weird, the mask over his face _definitely_ is… The raiders are okay though. He also just now notices… a shopping cart? Something's in the cart too, but he can't see what…

 _"… What did he have?"_ the first raider asks as he lowers his shotgun.

 _"I-I don't… I don't know,"_ the second one replies, putting his pipe pistol away.  

 _"Then go see!"_ he says, sounding angry.

Apollo watches as the second raider goes to the cart and lifts a tarp covering what's inside...

 _"Oh, fuck! Fuck, man!"_ he drops the tarp on the ground.

The first raider walks over, _"What the—oh shit… Shit… Shit…! Is that—"_

 _"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck…"_ the second raider doesn't sound okay.

 _"You absolute idiot!"_ the first raider berates him. _"You—"_

Apollo sees the second raider shaking— _badly_. He pulls on his coat, having a bit of a breakdown. The first raider scoffs and puts his hands on the panicking guy's shoulders and in a completely different tone says, _"Hey, hey, hey—breathe, man—fuck, take a breath."_

 _"Fuck fuck—"_ the second one panics still.

The first raider… pushes his forehead against the panicking one? Apollo isn't sure what he's seeing as he furrows his brows, but they whisper between themselves… He can't hear any of their conversation but perks up when one of them pushes the cart away.

 _"¿Qu_ _é_ _diablos…?"_ He can see… a _person_ in the cart as it rolls off. Someone small, but that's all he can make out from this distance. The raiders roll the cart away and he makes a split-second choice: he keeps his distance and follows them. He follows them for a bit as they move through Cambridge quietly. They have a _person_ in that shopping cart... The raiders and their cart come to a building with a basement door in the back. Apollo, still hidden, watches as they check to see that the coast is clear, and they open the doors. The raider pushing the cart lifts the person out of the cart…

_"¿Un… niño…?"_

… and the two head down, closing the basement doors.

He stays behind more cover and thinks… _"Mi pinche suerte…"_ he tells himself, pressing his fingers against his temples. On one hand, the little Apollo in his head tells him to walk away and forget what he saw, but on the other, the louder, more aggressive little Naomi says, _"Holy shit that is an actual child they just took you seriously cannot pretend you did not just see that."_

Like always, _Naomi_ is the voice of reason.

He looks at his gun… and shakes his head… One man against two raiders _could_ work, but he doesn't know how many more are inside. A quick glance over his cover and the doors are alone, so… he comes up with another idea. He makes his way over, keeping quiet, and looks at the entrance… It seems clear, but he crouches down and makes sure he can't hear anything after he presses his ear onto the door…  Carefully grabbing the handle, he hits a snag when it won't lift.

 _"Puta puerta…"_ he huffs, annoyed at the door. He gives it a shake, but no luck.

He sees something though: _there's a gap between the doors._ The sun is starting to set, so it's a little hard to see, but there's the _slightest_ gap…

 _"¿_ _Puede…?"_ he thinks and draws his machete, waiting a moment before slipping the blade between the gap and gently moving it up, down—

 _"¡Abre…!"_ he jimmies the blade down and _click_. He waits again, feeling his heart race a little. He pulls one of the doors back… Steps lead him down into darkness… For a second, he reconsiders all of this: he can turn back now and forget about it… or he can see who exactly was brought down here.

… So he follows the steps down, moving silently—any noise and he could be done for. He keeps his machete drawn in case he has to use it. Hopefully he won't because it's so dark in here. He has to keep his hand—

_"What the fuck man?"_

His body freezes in place and his eyes follow voices from upstairs.

_"He fucking pulled a gun on us, what did you want from me!?"_

_"Now what do we do with that kid! Fucking sell it to slavers for caps!?"_

_"I-I don't know! Just—lay the fuck off me for_ two _fucking seconds!"_

_"No, damnit, this isn't something we can drop—"_

_"Do you think I'm fucking happy!?"_ he sounds like he's about to cry?

By the sound of their footsteps, one of them is following the other. _"I… Man, I'm… I'm sorry I yelled at you… You know I… I care about you…"_

Well, now Apollo is just straight up _confused_.

_"… Th-Then you have a weird way of showing it…"_

_"If he fucking shot you… Man, what the fuck would I have done?"_

_"And if he shot_ you _? D-Do you think I—I want to have to see your brains spread in the dirt?"_

_"…I'm sorry. I really am… This is fucking insane—can we just… Let's figure this out, come on…"_

Their voices get quiet and the floor creaks under their steps.

 _"Céntrate, Coyote,"_ he tells himself, snapping back to the task at hand. It might be dark, but his eyes are adjusting. Shelves lined with junk, pipes coming in and out of walls, trash littered everywhere… With one hand against the wall to guide him, he takes a few more steps until he feels something strange.

Bars?

A lot of bars?

_A cage?_

The cage is built by a random assortment of crap—bars, wires, and some shoddy planks. He can see… somebody in the corner, huddled up. The person from the shopping cart? Their wrists and ankles are bound, and something is covering the top half of their face. He thinks to himself—there's no way this can be a teenager or older.

 _"Psst?"_ he hisses, trying to get their attention. _"Hey!"_ he taps on the cage with his machete.

_No answer._

_"Mierda…"_ he says under his breath. Unsure if the child in the cage is okay or not, it's not helping he can't even see if they're breathing. He feels the cage, looking for a handle or something.

What he manages to get his hand on is a… _padlock._

He groans through his teeth: _"Chingada, ¿por qu_ _é_ _nunca puede ser fácil?"_ Walking away would be _really_ easy right now, but he knows Naomi would _never_ forgive him for leaving a kid like this (and hers is the only opinion he cares about). He pulls his bag off and places it on the ground, opening it to rummage through as quietly as he can, looking for…

 _"Aquí estas…"_ he pulls out the small leather wrap and opens it: _his precious lock picking tools_. One of his greatest possessions, the set is almost intact, missing only one or two picks. He'll get the lock undone, but first, he _listens_ —he listens and tries to pick up any kind of movement coming from upstairs, but he can't hear the raiders arguing or walking around.

_Now or never…_

He gets to work. He's the best at lock picking; a skill he mastered very early when he left home. He can pick just about any lock—doors, cars, crates, caches, _safes_. He even once got Naomi back inside the clinic when she accidentally locked herself out and he's picked locks in the dark before, but that's nothing. What makes this whole situation different is the fact _there are raiders upstairs who will probably put a bullet in his_ fucking _head if they catch him_.

He's constantly doing the auditory version of looking over his shoulder every few seconds, listening intently for any sign of the raiders' movements. His hands shaking hands don't help either.

 _"Casi, casi… ¡Chingados!"_ he messes up after getting a few pins and has to start over. _"Aplácate… Est_ _á_ _s bien…"_ he says, trying to calm himself. Another moment of this… Switching a pick out for another one, feeling for the pins… His nervous tremor isn't helping. He twists the torsion wrench carefully and… _Click._

He can breathe again. Normally he'd feel proud about opening a lock, but he just stashes his tools back in their leather wrap and back into his bag (slipping that back on too). This whole process must have taken minutes, but his nerves made it feel like an agonizing hour.

He opens the gate, trying to his best to keep it from creaking, but that's difficult. The metal is old as hell and the joints need oiling, desperately. It needs a little extra force to open and the metal grinds on itself for a bit, but he can get inside…

 _"Psst,"_ he hisses again, _"H-Hey?"_

The child leans against the wall like they're asleep. He reaches over, nudging them. _"Hey!"_ he moves his hand from their shoulder to their neck, feeling for a pulse… They're alive, thankfully. He huffs and shakes them a little more, but, still no response. He pulls the wrapping off the top of their head. _"Hey, come on kid, work with me—"_

Their eyes are… open? They're open. Were they not asleep? He waves his hands around the oblivious child's face and snaps his fingers: _"Hey!"_ (that was a little loud).

The child's eyes open wider and they look at Apollo, studying him. He recoils a bit, being _very_ put off by their empty look and the tiny rapid movements of their pupils. 

The child blinks: _"Dad…?"_

"D-Dad—"

 _"Dad!"_ they shout.

Apollo flinches. 

They call out again, _"Dad!"_ They try to throw themselves at him but nearly fall over instead—he catches them, though.

 _"B-Be quiet!"_ he says through his gritted teeth as he looks at the door.

"D-Dad, I-I'm stuck! I'm stuck!" they panic ( _loudly_ ), looking at their bound wrists and ankles, wiggling around. "I-I can't move! Wh-Why can't I move!? Where are we!?"

 _"I said be quiet!"_ he tries to untie their wrist binds.

"What's happening!?" they ask.  

 _"Ya, ¡cállate!"_ he scolds them one last time.

_"I'm going, I'm going!"_

Apollo looks back with pure fear. _Someone's coming down._

"D-Don't move!" he orders them as he undoes their binds. As he finishes the binds on their wrist, a door swings open and hits a wall, echoing throughout the basement. He panics and draws his machete to quickly undo the binds around their ankles.

"Hey! What the fuck!? What's going on back there!?" a flashlight shines on Apollo and the child in the cage, hurting his eyes. _"Get the fuck down here!"_ the raider calls upstairs.

Apollo sheathes his machete and pulls his gun out, firing a warning shot and making the raider shout and drop the flashlight. The raider scurries behind cover and returns fire, which Apollo shields the child and ducks a bit to avoid.

"What's happening!?" they shout.

"Stay down!" he tells them, moving closer to the cage's doorway. He fires a few more shots to keep the raider down. The child yelps every time a shot fires and they press their hands against their ears. He and the raider exchange fire for another second—and Apollo gets lucky.

The raider hits the wall behind him. "Fuck! _Mother fucker!_ " he shouts in pain.

Apollo can't see what he did, but it sounds like it _hurt_.

"What the fuck is going on here—" the other raider appears and cries out, seeing his partner on the floor: _"No!_ _No no_ _no—what did you do—_ "

"Shoot that bastard!" the first raider tells him. "He's back there!"

"You son of a _bitch!_ " the second raider pumps a shotgun and hurries to the cage. Apollo backs up against the door with his pistol held tightly.

"If he fucking dies, I'll fucking—"

The raider pivots on his foot to get inside the cage, but instead meets the butt-end of Apollo's pistol—square into his chest. He gets whipped in the gut right after. Tacking advantage of the surprise attack, Apollo gets his foot behind one of the raider's and sweeps him off his feet.

"F-Fuck!" he gasps, reaching for the shotgun as Apollo cocks and aims his pistol—

_"No! Stop!"_

Apollo glances over to the first raider holding his flashlight up as he drags himself along the wall. He's bleeding from the shoulder and immediately drops his weapon. "Please—don't shoot him!" he… pleads? "Just take the kid and _go!_ "

 _"Dad, what's happening!? I'm scared!"_ the child shouts, getting Apollo's attention.

He looks down… _What the fuck_ is _happening?_ Both raiders hold their hands up, defeated, and the child is on the verge of tears.

_"Get the fuck out of here!"_

Apollo kicks the shotgun away from either of the raiders and makes his way for the stairs—

"D-Dad, I-I can't see! Don't leave me!" the child pleads, reaching out and grabbing a bit of Apollo's shirt.

_Oh fuck._

Apollo looks at the child, then the raiders, the shotgun… Without thinking, he picks the child up, carrying them as he fucking _bolts_ up the stairs out the door he came in from.

And he runs.

And runs.

_And runs._


	3. ONLY THE BEGINNING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo comes back to New Sanctuary earlier than he planned and needs Naomi's help with the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this fic were a videogame, I think after chapter three is when the game's title and logo would appear, signaling the "start" of our story? I really liked writing this chapter because it let me explore three of the main character's some more and it's the first time Apollo, Noami, and the boy are in the same room!
> 
> In my opinion, Naomi shines the most in this chapter. I really like when she's present in a scene cuz I get to write someone so lively and bouncy with her actions, but here I also get to show off her talents: working with kids, critical thinking, coming up with plans. I'm glad I ended up promoting her from a minor side character who was secretly pulling some strings in the background to being Apollo's bestie. It was interesting also having this take place pretty much entirely in the clinic but still squeezing out a lot of dialog. You'll realize that there really won't be a lot of action in this fic just cuz I'm not at all good writing out those kinds of scenes (it was a struggle last chapter that I barely got thru, IMO), so most of these fics are just descriptions and dialog.
> 
> \---
> 
>  **Update (17 Feb 19):** Fixed a really dumb typo that I told myself to fix and completely forgot to.

**03//ONLY THE BEGINNING**

_Morning._

Apollo stares at the child eating some of his rations with a bit of water. He pieced together he's a little boy. Small. Kind of light. Cries easily. His skin is a light tan. The boy doesn't notice the staring though. He's just sitting on his crossed legs in his seat, chewing a bit of jerky and rocking a little while he draws something on the table with his finger. He seems okay? His clothes are a little dirty (kid's jeans and an ugly short sleeve), and the shirt is torn (which he doesn't know if it was like that or if it got ripped when they made their escape), but that's about it. Apollo, on the other hand, is drained mentally, physically, and emotionally. He's been trying to wrap his head around this entire situation, but it's all a blue and he doesn't even remember running through Cambridge to Lexington and only vaguely recalls them stopping at that diner after they left Starlight. Things got hectic in Concord before they hurried through the Rocket and back to his shack.

Getting him inside was easy with it being so dark and once inside Apollo could breathe, he remembered that old sleeping bag of his. He rolled it out for the boy who was yawning and rubbing his eyes as he lied in it, but refused to fall asleep—something about… being too scared Apollo wouldn't be there if he did? He ended up falling asleep and woke up (scared) when the radio turned on. Apollo got up to turn it off almost instantly and that's when he offered him some food. 

The boy looks up. "Dad, aren't you hungry?"

 _Dad_.

Apollo grinds his teeth behind his closed mouth. He just… shakes his head. _Slowly._ He doesn't know what hungry means right now. Everything feels hazy and he has no idea what the hell is going on… He keeps calling Apollo _dad_ , but he's never seen this boy before… Some psycho was pushing him in a cart and raiders tossed him in a cage, for fuck's sake. He wonders if this is just some… weird joke he's not in on or what.

Apollo takes a deep, strained breath and gets up from the table to stumbles into the bathroom.

"Wh-Where are you going?" the boy asks.

He doesn't answer. He just closes the door behind him, screws the lightbulb in, and fills his silver bowl with water. He examines himself in his broken mirror… Has he gone crazy? Is this radiation sickness? He pulls his lucky gray cap off, slicking his hair back. He stuffs a bit of it into a pocket and collects water in his hands, splashing it on his face and using the rag to clean up. He dries his face with a bit of his shirt and halfway through brushing his teeth, he realizes he didn't put toothpaste on the bristles. He just stops and steps out to see the boy waiting nervously for him at the table.

They look at one another, blinking, until Apollo speaks up: "Why… don't you… splash some water on your face?" he suggests, replacing his cap back on his head and gestures to the bathroom he just stepped out of. "I'll… I… have to… do _something_ …"

"Oh! O-Okay, I-I can do that!" he pushes his chair back and hops to his feet. He makes his way over and steps in while Apollo sighs, trying to think, but that's impossible to do right now. His head is foggy, and his fingertips are number than usual. So, he just does… _something_. He moves to the small suitcase he keeps his clothes in (before he used to throw everything in a box until he came across this neat suitcase while exploring). He takes out one of his shirts and… looks it over. _Is_ this even his shirt? Is he in the right shack? He looks at his bed, the nightstand next to it… His table and chairs—the small kitchen area… The occupied bathroom in the corner… The random assortment of containers he uses to store his tools and junk… _The safe under his bed…_

"I'm all clean!" the boy announces (making him jump), with his face looking fresh.

"Ugh… Do… you want to wear… this…?" he offers him the shirt.

He bounces over. _"Wow!"_ he exclaims, examining the shirt. It's old and thinning, with some extra stitching, but from years of wear, it's very soft… "It's just like yours!" (he only wears these old flannel shirts).

He automatically nods (well, it's more like a lazy bob). "Put, ugh… Put it on," he says as he turns to give him some privacy to removes his torn short sleeve and slips on Apollo's flannel, giggling.

"It's a little big."

Turning around to look at him, _'a little'_ is an understatement…

"It's… fine," he says.

"Can uhm… Can you make my sleeves like yours, too?" he asks, lifting his arms up.

He looks confused for a second. "Ugh… Sure…" and squats down, rolling the left sleeve then the right. _Perfect._

"Thanks!" he feels his own cuffed sleeves, loving how he looks.

Apollo sighs. "C-Come on… We need to see somebody…" he slips his lucky gray cap back on…

"Are we going somewhere again?"

He finds his 10mm pistol and slips it into his holster. "Yeah. It's close. Just… come on…" he heads for the door and the boy follows along.  

He steps out first and leads by a step, leading the boy who grabs a bit of Apollo's shirt. That nearly makes him flinch as he's too lost in his thoughts, but he manages to restrain himself. He needs Naomi's help and he needs it _bad_. He's in way over his head and he's been drowning these last few hours without her. He remembers thinking he could have left him with the Minutemen in Concord, but the boy began to cry at the idea of being left behind and he… couldn't bring himself to do that to him for some reason. Something in his voice hurt him too much and weighed down on his conscious (watching him sit on the curb and hold his knees to his chest didn't help either).

Walking through New Sanctuary, Apollo immediately notices people glancing at him… The guy who _never_ talks to anyone suddenly has a kid following him around? Two settlers—an older pair of friends—even point and whisper. He doesn't know what they're saying, but the fact he's a topic between these people is annoying and he's even getting a little angry (but that could also be because he's had absolutely no sleep for a little over 24 hours).

They walk up the road and get to the clinic and Apollo knocks on the door (a little too hard). "Naomi? Naomi!"

Footsteps hurry over. Naomi opens the door with her toothbrush in her hand. "Coy…? Coy! Hey, buddy, you're back! What happ…ened…" she trails off, caught off guard by the little boy. _"… Oh!"_ she looks confused. "H-Hello! You must be—" she eyes Apollo and he shakes his head "— _lost?_ A-Are you… lost?"

He holds onto Apollo's shirt and looks at the doctor, shaking his head back.

"Nai, I need your help," he says.

Naomi looks between him and the boy. "Er…" her eyes bounce around some more, " _S-Sure…_ come… come in…" she steps aside to let them inside…

Apollo lets the boy walk ahead of him, leading him by the shoulder.

"Is this who we're seeing?" he looks over and asks Apollo.

"Yeah."

"Okay!" he smiles, looking over to Naomi and waving.  

She waves back… She's worked with children before, so she lets that training take over. Squatting down to his eye level she smiles, "Uhm… Hi! Wh-What brings you to New Sanctuary?"

"Dad said we were coming to see you!"

She looks to… Apollo? _"Dad?"_ she repeats—

"Kid, can you give us the room?" he tells him, with a hint of frustration in his voice.  

"Oh! Ugh—i-if it's alright with you, how about you go sit down in the exam room and we'll be back there in a moment, yeah?" she asks him, smiling as much as him.

He eyes Apollo who presses his fingertips into his shoulder, leading him forward: _"Go."_

"It's right over there! Just straight ahead!" she points with her toothbrush.

"A-Are you going to come?" he asks, sounding nervous when he looks at him.

"Yeah," he says, not sounding like he _wants_ to go.

The boy walks into the exam room, looking back as he closes the door almost all the way: "C-Can I keep the door open a little?" he peeps through with one eye.

" _All_ the way."

He closes the door with a _click_ …

Naomi jumps to her feet. _"Coy, what the_ actual _fuck? Who is that? I know everyone here and I have never seen that child's face!"_ she berates him in a whisper, poking his chest with her toothbrush.

_"Nai, please—I—I need you to hear me out on this one…"_

She does _not_ like the way Apollo sounds. _"Wh-What's going on?"_

He takes a deep breath and starts explaining what happened on his way to the Alley—Cambridge, the raiders, the man, and his shopping cart: _"… and those raiders put him i-in a… f-fucking cage! Who fucking does that!? I—I don't—fuck, I got him out a-and… He's been with me the last few hours…"_

 _"O-Oh my God…"_ she mutters, horrified. _"Was… Was he being kidnapped? That guy—where was he taking him to?"_

He sighs and rubs his forehead. _"I-I don't know, Nai! I-If people and kids go missing, the… the Minutemen report that, yeah? O-On the radio?"_

 _"They… They do!"_ she hops over to her receptionist desk and tunes her radio to Radio Freedom… Soft, patriotic music plays but… they don't hear anything about someone missing in that moment. She drops her shoulders. _"Fuck, I don't know why I thought that would actually work…"_ she turns the knob until it _clicks_ (feeling only a _little_ stupid). _"Look—i-if a child, of_ all _people, were missing, we would have been hearing about it for days a-and non-stop… … But… only if it was a Minutemen-aligned settlement…"_ she realizes. _"If… If he's from somewhere outside their territory, he could be from anywhere… Did you ask where he's from? His name?"_

_"I tried to, but he says he doesn't know either of them!"_

_"God—i-is he a runaway? At that age? H-How old is he, anyways?"_

Apollo shakes his head, but he has more: _"Nai, this gets worse."_

 _"Worse? Really?"_ she asks, not sure how it _can_ get worse. 

_"The kid thinks… Fuck—the kid keeps… calling me 'dad'! H-He thinks I'm his dad and he cries if I try to leave him alone!"_

Naomi tried—she really did—but she lets out a loud _'Ha!'_ and immediately covers her mouth. _"Oh God I'm so sorry Coy you know I diffuse nerve-wracking tension with laughter! I-Is—Oh God…"_ she puts her hands on the back of her neck, lifting her hair, and at a total loss. She has no clue what to do. _"Ugh… Can we… Uhm—c-come on. Let's… er… talk to… him,"_ she gestures with her head tilting to the door. She stashes her toothbrush in her pocket and quickly ties her hair with a band on one of her wrists. "Grab my lab coat?

 _"Ugh—"_ Apollo glances and pulls it off a chair, tossing it to her.

 _"L-Let me… Let me talk to him,"_ she says, putting it on and letting herself in into the exam room.

Inside, the boy's sitting on the exam table, tracing the lines of his borrowed flannel shirt's design, rocking back and forth. He looks up to see the two of them walk in, lighting up when he sees Apollo. "Hi! I-I waited just like you said!" he waves.

"Hey!" Naomi replies, putting on her big smile again and hides the fact she's nervous as _fuck_. "So!" she sits in a rolling chair and scoots over to him (Apollo hangs back, leaning on the wall), " _My_ name is Doctor Naomi Bishop. Can you tell me _your_ name?"

The boy shakes his head. "I-I don't have one."

She blinks. "You… don't know your name?" she asks, still smiling.

"No." He doesn't seem too worried about it.

"Do… you know where you are…?"

He shakes his head again.

"Do you know who he is?" she points to Apollo.

He lights up: "Th-That's my dad!" he says proudly (Apollo grinds his teeth again).

"What… What do you know about your… dad?" she asks (and now he's been betrayed by his ex-best friend, of all people).

"H-He found me, and it was really dark, b-but there were mean people and he picked me up carried me and we got away from them and he bought me a soda and he gave me a cool sleeping bag!" he wiggles.

She nods… "Do you… know who those mean people were? How you got there?"

"I… don't know who they were, but… I just remember seeing dad there and… there was a lot of noise I didn't like it, but we got out when one of them fell, right, dad?" he looks to Apollo.

Apollo let's out a _'mhmm.'_

"Uhm… Okay… Do you know where you're from?" Naomi asks, kind of half-expecting a no.

"No… I… just remember that dark place," he admits, playing with his thumbs.

She sighs a bit… "You're… absolutely sure?"

"Y-Yeah! I promise!" he bounces nervously.

"Okay, ugh…" she looks around the room, tapping her knees, thinking and thinking and _thinking_. "… _So._ Ugh. I still have a few questions and an easy way for them to get answered would be if you would let me examine you. That _does_ mean I'm going to put my hands on you. Is… that okay with you?" she asks him.

He looks past Naomi to Apollo (she follows his gaze too). Apollo, not sure why they look at him, lifts his shoulders. "I—Nai—" and he sighs through his nose and drops them "— _whatever._ "

He nods. "Okay!"

"Then let's start with the basics. Look up?" she stands up and feels his face. She looks at his eyes. She immediately notes their almost golden color, already thinking of reasons from radiation to deficiencies… She feels his cheeks and asks him to open his mouth. Everything looks great—even his teeth, which is surprising for her. She feels under his jaw, making him giggle.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"Oh—see—you have special mini organs—" she wiggles her fingers saying that "—right here in your body," she presses against the side of his neck, "They help you out when you're sick, but if you've been out in the wasteland without shelter, they could get bigger because of the radiation or maybe eating or drinking something you shouldn't have. I'm just checking their size. Have you had any pain in your eyes or anything wrong with your teeth?" she asks back.

"Nope!"

"Good, good… I'm going to look through your hair, alright?"

"Wh-What's in my hair?" he nervously sifts his fingers through it.

"Nothing! Or—well—I don't know just yet. Sometimes people can pick up bugs in their hair and I just want to make sure you're not carrying anything," she explains as she walks around the table and starts to feel his dark brown hair, parting it and checking it for any lice or bugs or injuries she could've missed. Again, _nothing_ out of the ordinary which is also surprising for her. Great teeth, healthy hair and skin… Something isn't adding up— _no one is this clean._ He just sits with his hands on the exam table, kicking his legs though. He can't take his eyes of Apollo.

"You do a great job of keeping your…" … she feels something… "… head… clean…" she trails off.

Naomi eyes Apollo… "H-Hey, ugh, _dad?_ Why… don't you… come over here?"

Apollo furrows his brow just a bit, picking up her tone. He steps over and she scoots a bit, showing him what she just found.

  1. 0\. 8. 0.



**L0-80.**

The one letter, three number sequence is tattooed near the base of his skull, hidden within his hair. It's perfectly healed as if it was done a while ago. Apollo's eyes widen as he mouths his disbelief ( _"¿Qu_ _é_ _putas?"_ ) as Naomi sort of stops in place. The look on her face is… _cold_.

"Is… everything okay? Did you find something?" he asks. "I-Is there something in my hair?" he feels Naomi's hands.

"… N-No! Y-You… You have a lovely head!" she snaps out of her thoughts. "I-I just wanted to show your dad!" (Apollo is still blown back by what she found to get angry).  

"Oh. Thanks!" he wiggles some more.

"Uhm… So… You… Can you tell me your name?" Naomi asks.

He shakes his head. "I still don't know it. Sorry!"

"No no no, that's… perfectly okay!" Naomi nods, trying to keep it together. "Ugh—let… let me just…" she looks to a tray nearby and rummages for her stethoscope and puts it on properly, "listen to you breathe. Just some normal breaths, okay?"

The boy does so, and Naomi has nothing to report. She goes around and puts her stethoscope over his chest. Nothing abnormal either. She continues the exam, asking him to move his arms and legs, wiggle his fingers. He's a _normal_ , _healthy_ boy. … Who just so happens to have something tattooed on the base of his skull. She won't let herself go further than that (it's not like she can ask him to undress), but she has some ideas forming.

"Okay, I'm… going to talk to your dad outside, alright? Can you just give us a moment?" she asks, holding up a finger.

"But you'll be back, right?" he asks (aiming that more so at Apollo).

"We'll be back!" she looks to Apollo. "Right?"

"Y-Yeah…"

He nods and the two leave the room.

Once they're a bit away from the door, he starts: _"Fuck! Wh-What the shit was that!? Did… Who the fuck would do that to a kid!?"_

Naomi pieces something together in her head, exhaling _'Oh my God…'_ under her breath.

_"What, Nai?"_

_"Coy, ugh—fuck, I—I need to…"_ she looks at the door to the exam room and bites a nail. _"Look, I… I have an idea, okay? But I…"_ she stammers. 

_"What? What are you thinking?"_

_"Look. I… I could be really,_ really _wrong Coy. The_ most _wrong I've been in my life. Okay—I-I know raiders will sometimes tattoo people they kidnap to keep track of them—"_ she moves her hands all over _"—and I've seen… horrible parents tattoo their children for fun, right? Hell—I've even heard of a child who modified an old Mr. Handy with a homemade needle gun. But that... letter and number code? That… It's… I mean—I-I've_ heard of _…"_ she leans in and lowers her voice to less than a whisper, _"… those being… used to mark, well… Synths,"_ she swallows.

 _"A… A_ synth _? Th-Those robot… people… things…? Nai—a-are you—"_

 _"I… I don't know—I can't be positive. This is a one in… I don't know—a billion chance? But, look—h-he has perfect… everything! He has great hair—"_ she lists on her fingers _"—skin, teeth. H-His heart and breathing are perfect—no signs of radiation!”_ she swipes her hands apart. _A-And that's_ really _hard for people out here. His eyes—they're a… like a golden color and that's—that's not a common thing, and I-I can think of a few illnesses that might cause that, but—he's healthy. Too healthy. H-He doesn't have a name, or no idea where he's from or how he got here? He might not be lying! That could—maybe he was…"_ she thinks aloud, trailing off… _"B-But they're not… children…"_ she pinches one of her fingers, thinking aloud.

_"Where would he even have come from?"_

She sighs. _"Look—if…_ if _I'm right, the… the Institute would be the only people who could do this, but…"_

_"But? But what? I-I thought the Institute was just some—some story?"_

Naomi… doesn't answer that.

 _"Fuck, fuck,_ fuck _…"_ Apollo falls back against a wall, wiping his face with both hands. _"What does this mean for us then?"_

 _"I-I don't know, but… I can… I'm going to need your help, Coy,"_ she says.  

_"What do you want me to do? W-Watch him?"_

_"… Please?"_  

_"N-Nai!"_

_"Coy, please, just—give me some time, okay?"_ she presses her hands together. _"Please—I… I really,_ really _don't want this to be true. I want to be so wrong right now, but I'm really worrying over here. So, please, just… a day or two—that's all I need, and I can get in contact with… Just… Please, Coy."_

He sees how sincere she is… She's _definitely_ onto something and he knows she wouldn't bullshit him like this if it wasn't serious.  

He… nods… _"… Yeah, sure—okay."_ He feels _immediate_ regret after those words leave his mouth.

She nods back. _"…Okay… Come on…"_ and goes over to the door, stepping inside the exam room again and putting on her happy smile. " _Hey!_ Sorry to keep you waiting!" (Apollo looks like he got his ass beat as he stands at the doorway). "So, I was just telling your dad that you're all clear! You're as healthy as… something really healthy!" she comes up with that terrible simile on the spot.

"Really? Thanks!"

"You're free to go! If you ever start to feel funny or strange, tell him to bring you back to me, okay?"

"I can do that!" he smiles before hopping off the table and bounces over to Apollo. "I'm ready to go, dad!"

Apollo feels… weird. He might finally be crashing from the lack of sleep. He hops past Apollo and out the exam room. Before he gets too far, Naomi pulls him back for a second.

 _"Don't tell him_ anything _, Coy_."

_“Y-Yeah.”_

He meets the boy waiting at the entrance and steps out first before the boy grabs hold of his flannel shirt and the two head down the road.


	4. BRING YOUR KID TO WORK DAY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo has a rough time adjusting to taking care of the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four. This is Apollo first, full day with the boy under his care. It goes badly. I myself am very pro-synth. In game, I really hated doing those Institute mission for the achievements. If you know me IRL, you'll know I'm pro-weird-robot-stuff, so maybe it's a kinda bias. It was tricky cuz I wanted to sort of project that onto Apollo, but I resisted. This weird, anti-synth point of view he has is--unsurprisingly--very biased and uninformed, but that's who is (for now because like I said, this story has a happy ending). 
> 
> I love the boy in this chapter. I love writing his dialog because he is absolute sunshine and smiles. I hate seeing something shitty happen to him and looking through my notes, I think this is like, the only physically shitty thing to happen to him. There's a reason for this injury tho, I promise. 
> 
> \---
> 
>  **Update (17 February 2019)** : Updated a lot of the text and added some more details and dialog. I actually think I might've accidentally uploaded an older version of the chapter from a different file, so whoops! It's essentially the same tho.  
>  **Update 2 (22 February 2019)** : Added a line of dialog I thought of last minute that'll help the next chapter.

**04//BRING YOUR KID TO WORK DAY**

The next morning, Apollo splashes water on his face before looking up at his reflection in the mirror. He fed the boy some more of his rations before finally crashing on his mattress. It didn't help much. He could barely stay sleep and was waking up for moments throughout the evening and middle of the night. Whenever he would wake up, he would just look to the boy, sitting on the floor and tracing the lines of his borrowed flannel shirt, lying in that in that sleeping bag against the wall, or just curled up and asleep.

 _"Naomi sabe que está haciendo…"_ he tells his tired reflection, trying his best to keep his faith in her.

He wants to get through the coming days while whatever she comes up with comes to fruition, but he'd be lying if he said this wasn't stressing him out. The circles under his eyes are proof of how worn he is, and he thinks they've gotten darker than usual. At this rate, he won't be surprised if his hair starts to fall out (which wouldn't be the first time, either). He slicks it back and brushes his teeth before unscrewing the lightbulb, stepping out of the comfort of his bathroom.

He closes the door behind him as he moves to sit on his bed. _Everything_ hurts—especially his aching neck and lower back. The numbness in his fingertips is worse today too. A million thoughts still race in his head as he massages his forearms and wrists: one moment, he was on his to unwind in the Alley, the next he's running from raiders with a boy he found in a cage, and now he's taking care of him.

 _Also, the boy_ might _be a synth._

He reaches for his boots and slips them on, tying them slowly before taking his 10mm off the nightstand. The sleeping boy grabs his attention for a moment…

 _"Déjalo…"_ he tells himself, not wanting to wake him up (and maybe because he doesn't even _want_ to talk to him).

With everything, he stands and makes his way to the door of his shack. Maybe some air and time away from all of… _this_ will let Apollo think—

"Good morning, Commonwealth—" he jumps and scrambles to turns the radio off "—This is Radio Freedom, the voice of the Minutemen—" he sighs, shutting it off, but…

The boy wakes up: _"D-Dad…?"_

Apollo puts on an acceptable face. _"Hey…"_ he says, a little unenthusiastically.

 _"Wh-Where are you going…?"_ he pushes himself up slowly, crawling out of his sleeping bag.

"I, ugh… have to go to work…" he walks over to the door. "I should be back soon though."

"W-Wait… Can I come?" he asks, standing up carefully now.

"What? No—"

"Please?"

"Wouldn't you rather… stay here?" he asks, confused as to why a kid would want to spend his day in the fields.

The boy shakes his head, "I-I don't know what… what to do here… I-It's like when you fall asleep…" he pulls on his own sleeve. "Wh-What if you don't come back?"

"Look, I'll be back, but I'm telling you: there's nothing fun to do out there—I'm expected to get work done."

"I-I can help!" he bounces a bit on his feet, trying hard to get him to let him come with. "I'm… I'm all dressed too! … Please?"

Apollo grinds his teeth a bit, wondering _again_ why Naomi couldn't take him. Not wanting him to cry or do something _else_ over the top, he huffs. "Fine. Whatever. You've got two minutes. Go… clean up," he gestures towards the bathroom door, not wanting to waste any more time seeing as he's already agitated this early in the morning…

"Yes!" he makes his way to the bathroom, wobbling, and takes a moment while Apollo sits in a chair at his table.

"Pour water from the blue bottle and dirty water back into the green one!" he calls out.

_"Okay!"_

He hears tiny jumps for a second before looking towards the door and thinking. He has work to do and he doesn't want to play babysitter for the boy… Naomi is probably asleep still and she won't be up for a while (unless there's someone who's bleeding out by the time they get to the fields) so he can't leave him with her. Not that he could, anyways; he’s also already given her his word that he’d watch the boy… He taps the table with his fingers, annoyed at this entire ordeal…  

"Okay, I'm ready!" he jogs over to his sleeping bag and slips on his little shoes before making his way over to Apollo. "Can—Can you fix my sleeves?" he holds his arms out. Apollo is taken out of his thoughts to roll them, like he does to his own sleeves.

"Come on," he stands and has him follow him out the shack. He grabs and holds onto Apollo's shirt automatically which… he doesn't think he'll ever get used to (not that he'll have to, anyways). They walk down the road while Apollo keeps his hands in his pocket. The boy looks at the sky, the other farmers. He can't get that smile off his face as he takes in the sights again.

"D-Dad, what is that?" he tugs on the bit of his flannel shirt and gawks at the two headed… _thing_. Apollo looks at the brahmin and its provisoner.

"Good morning, settlers," the provisioner greets them (Apollo's seen her before, he thinks).

"Wow…" The boy reaches to touch the brahmin…

… Until Apollo pulls him back. "Don't bother her," he tells him under his breath (the provisioner blinks… but she keeps walking with her brahmin, glancing at Apollo).

He ogles the funny animal before looking ahead again. They get to the gates leading to the fields and he lets the boy through first, guiding him in by the shoulder before he steps through and closes the gate with his foot.

"Wait here," he tells him, and he goes to grab his tools from the tool shed, giving them a quick inspection. He thinks of what he can give him to keep him busy and quiet, so he grabs a pair of dirty buckets from a large stack and makes his way back, putting the buckets down first.

"What can I do?" he asks, looking inside the buckets.

"Here, use this," he hands him his _utility knife_.

He looks at it with the blade receded. "What… do I do with it?" he looks up to Apollo.  

 _He should have figured._ He takes the knife back: "Look for—" he scans a random stalk of corn "—these dry, shriveled leaves and cut them off," he demonstrates, sliding the blade out and using it to cut the leaf cleanly off the stalk before passing the knife back to the boy. He's _positive_ there's no way for a kid to mess this up. Who doesn't know how to use a knife? He was using knives when he was the boy's size. "Put anything to cut off in this bucket," he tells him.

"I can do that!" he squats down in the dirt, starting with the closest stalk, ready to work with him.

Now that Apollo's assigned him to something, he looks over what he has to do by going through his mental checklist—

"What are these called?" the boy asks, nicking a leaf he looks at.

"What?" Apollo looks at him.

"This stuff!" he looks up, smiling.

"… _Corn_?"

"What's corn?"

"You've… _never_ heard of a corn?" Apollo squints a little.

He shakes his head, nicking another curling leaf that looks a little on the dry side.

"It's these things," Apollo grabs a stunted ear of corn and pulls it off the stalk (this one needed to be removed anyways; it's not growing properly, and it can be recycled into a nutritious compost), unwrapping its odd leaves.

"What do you do with it?"

"It's… food. In a few more weeks, they'll be ready to be collected and they'll be made into a few different things."

"Does it taste good?"

"I guess? It's corn," he says, tossing the immature ear into his bucket. He looks through other ears, feeling them and deciding if they need to be removed or not…

"Do you like corn?"

Apollo doesn't want to talk—he wants to work, damnit. "It's… corn. I… I'll eat it, but I usually cook it differently."

"How do you cook it?" the boy asks. 

Apollo takes a breath. "Look—" he puts his foot down and turns "—let's just focus on work, okay? I told you we won't have time to mess around and I can't stop to answer everything you ask me. So, if you want to keep talking, I can meet back at my shack. If you want to stay here, be quiet and do what I told you."

"Oh," the boy… looks sad. "I… _I'm sorry_ …" he pipes down.

_I'm sorry._

Apollo _hates_ the way he said that, but he just isn't the type of person to talk and he wants to get this done. He's frustrated he had to bring him to work and other farmers are glancing at him and they're probably going to ask him who the boy is, and he hates the idea of having to talk these people. Naomi should have taken him for these next few days—she has a million times more experience with kids. Then there's the 'he-might-actually-be-a-synth' thing that's been on Apollo mind since they left the clinic yesterday and he has no idea _why_ , but it's fucking him up so badly. He glances at the boy cutting leaves with that knife still. He could be watching a… _machine_ … That's what a synth is, from the stories he's heard: a machine. Something made somewhere else.

He goes back to looking at his stalks.

They're quiet. For a while. At this point, the boy's been clipping leaves and moved onto another stalk (Apollo takes amazing care of his crops, but he just wanted to give him busy work clipping the few and rare dry leaves) and Apollo has gotten a few small ears of corn and checked on other things—getting rid of any pests mainly, noting which could use more water. His plot is always one of the healthiest plots. He's great at growing corn—he should be, after all. He moves down the row, examining his crops, getting rid of anything that isn't growing properly, leaving him behind.

As much as he tries to though, his thoughts are preoccupied. Raiders. Cages. Synths. Machines… It just loops over and over— the man and his shopping cart, the boy, the tattoo code; the man, the cart, the boy, the tattoo—Apollo's so lost in thought that he fucks up and pulls off a healthy ear.

 _"Ay—fíjate, estúpido…"_ he tosses the good ear of corn into his bucket.

That mess up brought him back to reality. He realizes he's got a lot of stalks done at this point. How long was he doing this? He peers on the other side of the row, checking on the kid—

_Wait, where is he?_

"Kid?" Apollo ducks between the rows of corn. "Hey, kid?" he steps through another row to see the boy working. "Hey—"

Something isn't right. He's put off, quickly realizes something's wrong. He's shaking, curled in on himself.

" _Qué diablos_ —kid? What's wrong?" he hurries over and takes knee. He seems he's holding his left hand, folded against his chest. He's petrified, looking at his hand as the tears roll down his face. Apollo sees blood on his borrowed flannel shirt.

" _Fuck_ —Give me your hand," he tries to take the boy's injured hand.

"N-No! Please d-don't take my hand!" he falls over, shaking his head, sniffing and trembling as he looks back at Apollo. He holds his hand tighter. "I-I'm sorry!"

Apollo flinches—that was loud. Someone's going to hear… _"Let me see your hand, kid,"_ he tells him between his teeth. _"I know you cut yourself and I need to see how bad it is."_

"No no no! I-I—"

 _"Let me see your hand,"_ he asks once more.   

He… finally gives up his left hand to Apollo, bleeding from the space between his thumb and index finger.

 _"Mierda…"_ he looks at it (and the boy winces). "What happened?"

"I—I cut myself wh-when I was cutting l-leaves."

It's a nasty cut—the knife must have slipped from the stalk. He takes his bandana from his back pocket and wraps it around the boy's hand. Blood soaks right through—that's a sign it's deep and it'll need more than a bandage.

"Why didn't you tell me something?"

"Y-You told—told me w-we couldn't talk. W-We had to work…" he sniffs. "I-I don't want you to take it a-away…!"

Apollo closes his eyes, sighing through his nose…

_Fuck._

"Come on," he helps the boy onto his feet, "We need to see Naomi. She needs to take—"

"No! I-I'm sorry, p-please don't take my hand!"

"No one's taking _anything_. Come on."

He leads him to the gate to step out of the fields. He keeps his left hand against his chest and holds onto Apollo's shirt with his right. The bandana is soaking up most of the blood, though.

When they get to the clinic, he knocks on the door. "Nai, you up? It's me."

"Let yourself in!" she calls from inside.

He opens the door and leads the boy by the shoulder to step inside as he closes it behind him. "Naomi, the kid's bleeding."

"What!?" she nearly drops her bowl of Sugar Bombs when she's reclining in her chair (feet up on her receptionist desk) and almost trips jogging over. "What happened!?"

"I-I c-cut myself," his voice shakes as he holds onto Apollo's shirt with his good hand.

Naomi sees his bloodied shirt and bandana-wrapped hand: "G-Get inside the exam room!" she tells them, letting them walk ahead of her. She heads to the supply room next door.

Inside the exam room, Apollo sees the boy can't really climb onto the exam table with one hand, so he gets behind him and lifts him a bit, setting him up. "Th-Thanks…" he says. Apollo nods once and leaves him there, moving to hang by the wall, but the boy grabs his shirt like usual. "N-no no! Can y-you… sit with me? Please?"

He looks at him. The boy's obviously scared. It's… almost as if he's _never_ been cut before… So, he takes a breath and sits beside him. The boy, instinctively, holds onto Apollo's shirt.

"… Wh-Where's Naomi?" he asks, wiping his tears on Apollo's sleeve.

"She's getting some stuff."

"Wh-What's sh-she going to do?" he sniffs. "I-Is she going to t-take my hand off?"

Apollo shakes his head, "N-No, why—" he sighs. "She's going to fix you. She'll stop the bleeding."

"I-Is… Is it going t-to hurt?" he sniffs again.

"It… probably will," he admits, but upon seeing the boy's worried look, he adds: "B-But not as much as cutting yourself."

"Have… H-Have you ever cut yourself?"

"… Yeah."

"A-And Naomi fixed your cuts?"

"There's nothing Naomi can't fix, kid."

She comes into the room with some supplies and sits in her rolling chair, scooting over to them. "Let me see your hand," she tells the boy, but he's still hesitant.

"Show her. It's okay," Apollo carefully nudges him with his elbow, "She's not going to take your hand, I promise." 

He's shaky still when he shows his hand to Naomi (looking confused about the hand comment), wrapped in Apollo's bandana. She undoes the quick wrap to see some blood has already dried in his palm and on the back of his hand and around the cut.

"Oh, thank God, it's not as bad as I thought… What were you doing?" Naomi asks him.

"I-I was cutting leaves a-and… I cut m-myself…"

"He cut himself with my utility knife, Nai. He wanted to come work with me in the fields and asked if he could help," Apollo admits.

She grabs a rinsing bottle (its antiseptic diluted with purified water), giving Apollo a _look_. It's not a secret she's angry that he thought it was acceptable to give the boy a knife in the first place. She places a tray under his hand. "I have to rinse your hand, okay?" she tells him. He nods, not entirely sure what that means. "This… might sting."

"O-Okay…?" he nods.

Naomi starts, with the mixture pouring out of a small nozzle that rinses off the dried blood from his hand, but it stings like hell when she rinses over his cut, but he pulls back, yelping.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry!" she apologizes. "I have to clean your cut though before continuing!" but he refuses to give his hand back. She tries to think of something. For a second, she looks at Apollo for some help here and he thinks…

 _"Hey."_ Apollo speaks up.

The boy looks over to him.

"I like corn, okay?"

Now the boy and Naomi _both_ look confused.

"When you asked me earlier? Where I'm from, we would eat it all the time. We would eat or boil it in water and add something we called it _cal_ and cook it into _nixtamal,_ and we used it for _everything_."

"Everything…?"

"We could make it into different kinds of food or drinks—" he counts on his fingers "—we could use its leaves as wrapping, a-and the cobs were used in compost or fed to our animals."

"You… could drink corn?"

"It was a base. We added other stuff to it. Usually… bits of fruit or _raíz dulce_ if we wanted to sweeten it," he says ( _"Rise dull-say?"_ the boy repeats).

Naomi picks up what Apollo's doing and acts fast. She takes the boy's hand and rinses it again and it only twitches this time while he and Apollo talk about… _corn_. She figures that's a conversation she missed, but whatever works—she can clean his cut and dry it off too… She prepares a needle and thread, estimating the length she'll need ("If we let the _nixtamal_ dry out enough, we could grind it into _masa harina._ " _"Moss arena?"_ ). She dabs a little disinfectant on some spare cloth and pats his hand. She's hesitant but she figures, while they're talking back and forth…

"… We grew as much _maíz_ —corn—as we could, and we had been growing it for generations. That was one of my jobs back home too: taking care of it."

"S-So that's why you do it here?"

"Yeah, at this point, it's… just normal stuff for me."

"W-Will you show me how to—to grow it too…?" he asks, giving Apollo a little smile.

 _"There!"_ she announces.

They stop talking to look at the small line of sutures. He opens and closes his hand slowly. "M-My hand…!"

"See, that wasn't so bad!" she tells him.

He feels the sutures (three little lines across his cut) with his right index finger, studying them. He winces and his cheeks are still wet with tears, but he's… looking calm.

"There's one last thing," she pulls out a syringe, making both of them flinch. "This is filled with the same medicine a stimpak has, but because you're a child, you only need a small dose. This will make your cut heal in about a day rather than a few and it helps take away any soreness. You don't need it, but I think it'll help. It's up to you if you want it, though."

The boy doesn't like the needle at all. Apollo's heart beats faster and his teeth start to hurt looking at it.

"I-Is that going to hurt…?" he asks.

Naomi squeezes her thumb and index finger together. "A bit."

"Dad…?" he looks to Apollo.

"T-Take it…" he swallows to moisten his dry mouth. The boy looks to Naomi and… nods… She gets closer and feels the ball of the boy's palm.

"This will be all over in a second, okay?"

He tenses feeling the needle poke his hand and holds Apollo's shirt so tightly that it might just rip (Apollo doesn't even notice as he forces himself to look somewhere else), but it just like that—it's done, and his hand feels warm.

"Okay, that's it. No more pokes," she says, capping the syringe and putting it on a tray.

The boy nods… Apollo actually looks worse than him right now.

Naomi wraps his hand with a clean bandage just once—she only wants to cover the sutures.

"Have your dad bring me back tomorrow, okay?"

He nods again, coming down from his nerves…

"Then you two are free to go—a-and please, no more knives, okay?" she aims that at Apollo.

"Thanks…" the boy tells her.

Apollo stands first and helps him off the table, "Come on…" he tells him, "You've… had a long day." He leads the boy, gently by his shoulder, out of the exam room.

_"Coy."_

He closes his eyes—he knows what's going to come. "Wait at the door," he tells the boy. "I'll be there—I promise," he adds.

He wobbles over to the door, putting his hand on the doorknob. Apollo closes the exam room's door for privacy again.

_"Nai, I—"_

"A _knife_? _Seriously? Are you_ actually _kidding me, Coyote? I-I know I dropped him onto you out of nowhere, and I know you aren't the biggest fan of children, but… come on! He trusts you enough to follow through whatever you plan and if I could, you_ know _that I would take him, but I can't. Just give me some more time, okay? These people know what to do a-and he'll be out of your hair but for the time being, just… keep him safe."_

He sighs, unable to defend himself this time for having fucked up on that call, and Naomi's words hurt.

_"Y-Yeah… You're right… I… I'm sorry, Naomi."_

They're quiet for a second while Naomi takes a deep breath. She can see he looks legitimately sincere for the mess up and can appreciate he's taking responsibility.

_"… But you came through helping keep him calm. So… thanks. It's hell stitching kids up—poor thing… He was really scared. Wh-What was that thing about taking his hand away? Did you—"_

_"No! No, Nai—I promise, I-I wouldn't fuck with him like,"_ he puts his hands up defensively. _"He was scared that I would take it away like… I was going to cut it off right there."_

She thinks… _"I can't come up with an explanation for it… Just… Keep an eye on him, okay?"_

_"… Yeah. A-And… thanks, Naomi… I mean it."_

She pats his shoulder, signaling he can leave.

He heads out, walking up to the boy. "Let's go…"

"B-Bye, Naomi," the boy waves with his good hand.

She waves back from the doorway. Apollo opens the door, stepping out first like usual, followed by the boy.


	5. WHAT BINDS US

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo brings the boy back to the shack after seeing Naomi and has a crisis of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, chapter five. I want to talk about this a little! 
> 
> This was the first chapter I actually ever wrote for this fic; specifically, the second half. In my earliest draft, the chapter was going to start there, but I had to add some stuff that took place earlier to help fill up those pages. This chapter is probably one of my favorite chapters just because it's... important. This chapter is Apollo's wake up call and this is the beginning of his side of this father/ son relationship with the boy, if that makes sense (and don't worry, the boy will be named--just give it some more time and you'll love that chapter because it's more of Apollo's story and lore)? A big concern is that some people might say this moves way too fast and seems super outta place, which, I'll admit, is a valid critique of Apollo, but I can only offer this bit of insight without spoiling too much: Apollo, at one time, was a child too. Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy chapter as much as I did! Also, sorry if I go overboard with the new paragraphs at the end. I think part of this fic's "flow" is its presentation, if that makes sense?

**05//WHAT BINDS US**

Following the clinic, Apollo walks with the boy. He holds onto Apollo’s shirt tightly and stays quiet for most of the walk and Apollo… doesn’t know how to feel about that. The boy’s borrowed flannel shirt now has a big, obvious stain where he held his bleeding hand up to as well and some other people notice.

"I-I'm sorry I ruined your shirt…" he speaks up finally, rubbing his eyes carefully with his just bandaged hand (awkwardly using the back of his wrist).

"I can clean it, don't worry," he tells him. It's not like he's never cleaned blood out of his clothing before… Plus, that's one of his favorite flannel shirts. No way he's going to get rid of it because of a little blood.

"Are… Are we going back to work?"

Apollo shakes his head a little. "I am, but you’re going back to the shack…" The boy opens his mouth to say something, but he cuts him off. “No. No arguing this time. It’s better that way, trust me. The stuff in stimpaks usually makes you sleepy. Take a nap when we get there. I'll… wake you up when I come back."

He pulls on Apollo's shirt. "B-But you'll come back? You promise?"

"Yeah."

"A-And you promise you'll wake me up?"

_"… Yeah."_

They get to Apollo's shack and he lets him in first. "Go ahead and take your shirt off," he says while closing the door behind him.

He unbuttons his borrowed flannel shirt and hands it over to Apollo, who takes it to the bathroom. He keeps a bucket in there and finds his big blue bottle of water, filling it to soak the shirt. It stays put as he leaves the bathroom… He can't leave the boy topless though, so he goes to zip open his suitcase and pulls out another shirt.

"Here," he hands it to him (he unfolds it and slips it on). "I'm going to head back. If your thirsty or hungry, feel free to eat whatever I have in my rations. I think I have some more dry meat and that doesn't need any cooking, so just go at it. Leave the shirt soaking and… I'll deal with it tonight."

"Okay," the boy goes over to sit on his sleeping bag… "I'll… see you later?"

Apollo nods and he leaves his shack. He sighs slowly, thinking about what a shitty morning this has been and how wants to get the day over now. He walks back to the fields, steps through the gate… He moves to his plot of corn; the tools he dropped, the boy's blood dried in the dirt. Looking at the stain for a second is strange… The boy bled like any other person would…

_“Una machina que sangre…”_

He steps in it, rubbing the stain into the dirt and erasing it. He picks up the tools and gets right back to work.

Time passes and he gets what he wanted to get done. Other farmers finished earlier, but because Apollo had to take the boy to Naomi, he stayed a little bit longer (which he’s perfectly fine with). He puts his tools away in the tool shed, finding some odd comfort in this dark, cramped space that smells of old wood and dirt. He leans against the wall for a moment—all alone, enjoying this peace and puts his hands on the back of his neck, breathing deeply…

_"¿Por qué yo?"_ he asks himself, looking down at his boots.

Now he's on his way back to the shack. He sees some children running around in a tight little gang… A parent walking with her kid… He can't do that. No—he isn't that type of person. He was _never_ that type of person. On top of not being good with children, he's not good with _synths_ either it seems. Damnit, he never asked for this.

… _But_ … he knows that's not an excuse for how he treated the boy. He promised Naomi he’d watch him and something about the way he was scared, how he cried… His stomach drops a little thinking too much about that, but he changes the topic in his head and has an idea. He walks over to New Sanctuary's bar, just a bit up the road and past his shack. People are already starting to make their way inside, most likely looking to get drinks and maybe even a hot meal (the bar usually has food that isn't given in rations and visitors like to stop for a bite sometimes). He takes a moment before stepping inside and out of curiosity, he glances at the people around him—

_"Ay, mierda…"_ he mutters, seeing someone he _does not_ want to see. He thinks about leaving and aborting the mission, but he tells himself: _"No seas pinche cobarde,"_ and he makes a beeline for the barkeep before the line gets too long. He waits behind two people who order beer and hot soup before stepping up.

"Oh, hey stranger! You new in town? A traveler?" she asks Apollo (who gets that a lot from too many people when he runs errands for Naomi in town).

"Just… looking for something…" he says, eyeing her counter (he also never corrects these people).

"Anything in particular I could get you?"

" _Nuka-Cola._ You got a bottle?" he looks at her.

The barkeep ducks behind her counter too. "Nothing out _here_ … Let me check in the back…" she steps back through to the bar's kitchen area, rummaging around for a moment _("Hey, we have any Nukas?" "Check by the silt beans."_ ) until her head pops up, visible through the small opening in the wall for food to come out: "Here we go! Lucky—last one I have too!"

"How much?"

She comes back out and props the bottle on her counter top. "10 caps."

He reaches for the caps he carries and counts out 10, handing them over to the barkeep.

"Thanks!"

"Yeah…" Apollo takes his bottles, holding its neck between his fingers. He… glances over again, looking at… _no one in particular_.

With his bottle, he leaves and goes back to his shack. He lets himself in and sure enough, the boy is taking a nap, curled up… _on Apollo's bed_. He doesn't care though. He puts his knit cap on the table and keeps quiet, going to his box of rations. It doesn't look like the boy ate anything (which he wouldn't have minded), but some water was drunk.

_“Al menos tomó algo…"_ he examines the empty bottle. _“Ahora…”_

_Food_. The boy has to eat something. What's something he can make quickly? Someone can only eat cold, dry meat for so long. He goes to start his stove… It's not at all fancy; a lot of the living quarters use simple stove tops that were salvaged and put together from scavenging to heat food. It’s powered by a repurposed Mr. Handy fuel tank—fitted with an adaption and filled with something flammable are recycled to be refilled somewhere else when they empty. His ration box has some matches and he gets to work when he decides on heating up a can of meat and some canned corn and gourds (and tosses some water to boil too).

A bit later, boy wakes up to Apollo nudging him. The sound of something sizzling and a savory smell fills the shack.

_"… Hey…?"_ Apollo whispers.

He rubs his eyes, happy to see him. _"Hi… dad…"_

_"You… ugh… hungry?"_

He nods.

_"Come to the table. I'll bring it over,"_ he goes back to the stove. 

He forgets his hand was just stitched, and it stings when he tries to push himself up… Carefully, with most weight on his right hand, he gets off the bed and wobbles over to the table, sitting again on his crossed legs in his chair. He sees a cup of something on the table. It's steaming?

"How's your hand?" he asks.

"It's okay…" he pulls the cup over carefully (flinching first after the cup surprises his fingertips) looking into it.

Apollo divvies up the food, putting half on a plate (it’s a weird piece of metal he uses as a plate at least) and keeping the other half in the pan (he only has the one not-really-a-plate plate). He brings it over and sets it all down. "Here," he sits across from him, handing him a fork he brought in the pan, but sees him looking into his cup. "Oh. Don't try that. You won't like it."

"What is this?"

"Tea."

"Tea?"

"Yeah," he sits down. "Let the food cool down a bit."

 "What did you make?" he looks at the food on his plate as Apollo pulls his cup back over.

"Just some canned stuff," he lets it cool before he starts picking at it (he also only has one set of silverware too).

“I-Is this corn?” he asks, excited.

“Yeah.”

He bounces in his seat, examining it, but Apollo remembers something: "Oh, I, ugh…" he stands back up and grabs a bottle of Nuka-Cola he left by the stovetop, and hands it to the boy. "I brought you a bottle of this stuff. I'm…" he looks into his golden eyes and… chickens out. "Well—you… deserve it after the hell you went through today…"

His eyes light up as he looks at the bottle. "Thanks!” he says, rolling the bottle between his hands. “… Oh—but… could you open it for me?"

He takes it back and pops the cap off with the side of his table and hands the bottle back (keeping the cap). He thanks him again and they eat dinner.

"Do you want some?" he asks, offering some of his Nuka-Cola after a sip.

"No. I don't drink that stuff."

"Why not?"

"I… just stick with water or tea. I don't like the taste of Nuka-Cola."

"What… about it don't you like?"

"Too sweet for me."

"You don't like sweet stuff?"

"Not when it's that sweet, no."

“Is that sweet?” he asks, pointing to his tea.

“It’s just hot water and dried leaves.”

And this goes on for a while. Apollo tries his hardest to just answer his questions, each one stemming off the last, and he… succeeds. He keeps his cool, gives him answers, and the boy's happy (which, surprisingly, is easy to do). After dinner, and more questions, he suggests he go clean up and try to get back to sleep (he still looks tired from the stimpak). He's okay with that plan and, after using the bathroom, goes back to his sleeping bag. Apollo grabs that bucket he left in the bathroom and finds an old brush missing some of its bristles and a tin can of some powder among his stuff. He sets himself up at the table and sprinkles some powder from the can on his shirt as he starts to scrub the blood stain—

"What're you doing, dad?" the boy asks, sitting up in his sleeping bag. He wiggled all the way over to sit on the floor right next to him (Apollo thinks he looks ridiculous).

"I have to clean the shirt. It was soaking in cold water all day, so hopefully the stain will clean out."

"Does… Does it need to be in cold water?" he asks.

He nods back, "Yeah, hot water will make the blood… ugh… cook?" he shrugs a little. "If that happens, the stain will never come out."

"Oh. H-Has that happened before?"

And it's another round of questions and, again, Apollo tries his hardest and is just straight forward with the boy, which, again, is not at all that hard (it's almost like it's easier just to go along with the boy’s questions than to be a total dick). While he cleans his shirt and answers more questions, the boy goes from sitting to lying on his side to finally falling asleep (and Apollo sighs when he realizes he fell asleep mid-answer). He examines the shirt and it's clean ( _“Sangre como nosotros…”_ ). He wrings it and lets it dry hanging off the back of his chair he was sitting in. He brings the bucket to his bathroom… It's bloodied and soapy, so he pours it into the green bottle and pours some water from the blue bottle into his bowl to clean his face up before heading off to sleep…  

Sitting on his bed, he takes his boots off and unbuttons his flannel shirt and jeans (putting his belt on the foot of his bed), but doesn't _actually_ take anything off. He crawls into position and closes his eyes.

_One._

_Two._

_Three hours pass._

Apollo just lies there on his mattress and looking up at his ceiling. He wants to be sleeping, but all he's been able to think about is the boy. Maybe it's too early? New Sanctuary isn't entirely asleep—the sounds of people meeting for drinks, taking an evening stroll are softly heard if he focusses…

_No, that's not it._

He feels like he should be sleeping right now, but he can't. Whenever he closes his eyes, his mind starts racing: the boy could be a synth and hell, it's not even a _'could'_ —it's a _'he is'_ … Naomi is almost never wrong and if she considered that him being a synth was a valid possibility, she saw something in the boy that he didn't to make that conclusion. A machine that looks human… He can't shake the feeling he felt when he saw that tattoo on the base of the boy's skull—a one-letter-three-number code… He needs to accept that he was… made in some… whatever the hell those Institute people have… The boy's a literal _nobody_. No one has reported a missing child to the Minutemen, no warning of attacks on an aligned settlement with people being kidnapped… He just appeared one day in some guy's shopping cart.

He runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes, wondering what happens next… Naomi told him to keep quiet and to not tell him anything. _Does he even know? Would he?_ She's coming up with a plan and needs time, so she asked for a few days of his time, but… he doesn't want it to be up to him to watch the boy he knows nothing about—he never wanted a kid back then, he doesn't want one now… And a _synth_?

_"¿Por qué yo?"_

Apollo rolls over to his side, looking at his hand. He's heard stories of synths—nothing too detailed, just whispers and rumors; stories of synths shooting people at random, synths hiding within normal populations and acting as spies, or sometimes synths kidnapping people. He's seen children in New Sanctuary play a game called Minutemen and Synths where they pretend to fight each other, even—reenacting play-fights. Then there's the Institute he knows almost nothing about. Naomi's told him the stories she's heard, but he has no idea what to think about them. He thought… they were just some scary stories used to get people… nervous. Just pulling the strings… from… a… hole in… ground…

_"…Dad…?"_

Apollo open his eyes and reaches—

_It’s the boy._

He looks at him standing next to his bed. Apollo pushes himself up, blinking. Did he… fall asleep? He doesn't think he did? He listens, and it's gotten quieter outside. _Was he about to reach for his gun?_

" _¿Q-Qu_ _é_ _…?_ What's wrong…?" he asks, sounding groggy (so maybe he did fall asleep).

He sniffs and rubs his eyes. "I-I—"

"Are… you…" he mutters feeling the boy's face and to his surprise it's… _wet_. Wet with tears… He exhales through his nose. _A machine that cries on top of a machine that bleeds…_

"I-I thought my h-hand fell off…" his voice breaks in whispers. "A-And y-you were there b-but you couldn't fix it… I-I don't—I-I don't want _them_ to take my h-hand…" he picks at the sleeves of his new borrowed flannel shirt. "I-I'm scared—scared i-it might fall off when I'm sleeping… Can—Can I… stay with you? I-In your bed…? I-If it falls off, you c-can t-take me to Naomi, r-right? Sh-She could put it b-back on…"

Apollo blinks… The boy wipes his face, shaking.

"Just—"

Apollo stops himself. Can he _really_ send this boy back to his sleeping bag? After everything that happened today? He can see he's really shaken, like… he's never had a nightmare before… Like this is another first of his.

_"… Y-Yeah… Alright, sure… "_ he says just to get it over with. He scoots back a bit to make some room for him to climb into the bed. He takes the space and gets close to him (his back against Apollo's chest), curling on his side.

He sniffs again, _"… Thanks…"_ he says, holding himself.

Apollo turns to face the other side so he can try to get back to sleep, but the boy looks over and… turns too—his head hides in Apollo's spine now. He feels the boy shake as he holds onto the back of his shirt with his bandaged hand.

_"You… You okay…?"_ Apollo asks.

_"I-It… If it's broken…"_ he doesn’t finish that sentence and just wipes his tears against Apollo's shirt. _"I just… I-I thought it r-really fell off…"_

_"It was just a bad dream…"_

_"I didn't… I didn't like it. I-I don't want to have that again…!"_ he shakes a little more, getting stirred up again.  

He takes another breath, but an idea comes to him: _"Turn over,"_ he tells him, and the boy does, hesitantly. Apollo also turns and… cautiously drapes his arm over the boy, regretting this plan in real-time. _"_ _Relájate… Just… Take a deep—"_

To Apollo's surprise, the boy takes his arm—immediately, without hesitation. He pulls Apollo's arm closer and… he sounds like he starts to relax. The boy lets out a shaky breath and holds it against his chest, putting his fingers between Apollo's.  

By now, they've been lying like this for a while and he thinks it worked because the boy's been sleeping easily. His breathing is normal, and no weird noises come from him. Not being able to move around is going to kill Apollo in the morning, but… it's fine if it means he won't be woken up again. It gives him time to at least be alone with his endless thoughts. He wonders: is this what a synth _really_ is? He's happy sometimes, scared some other times. He gets hungry, thirsty, tired.

_A machine_ … It would have fooled him if he had never seen that stupid tattoo… He's so… curious—he spent dinner asking Apollo about his favorite food, about cleaning clothes, the shirts. He wonders, he feels… _Crying?_ Why would a machine be built to _cry_? Why would a machine need to _bleed_?

_Ifs, ands, buts._ He looks down at the boy, curled up like always. He plays it out in his head: what if he _isn't_ a synth? What if he and Naomi are so, _so_ wrong and this is all a massive mistake and he really is just some lost kid who doesn’t want to go home. That makes sense—that’s something Apollo can imagine and reason. … It's a stupid thought though, because by now, that's not going to happen, but… he wishes. Maybe then this would be… _bearable_.

_Something built somewhere else…_

What _did_ Naomi hear when she listened with her stethoscope? Was it like the small engine of a generator? Or a rumbling fusion core? Is that what told her he was a synth, or could she tell because of that tattoo?

… He wants to try something. He frees his arm from the boy's soft lock (carefully) and adjusts it, slipping his fingertips between the buttons of his borrowed flannel shirt and he feels his chest, looking for something—for whatever Naomi found.  

_It… takes him a second, but there’s… something. He feels something and… It's not at all what he thought._

It's one of the _softest_ , _easiest_ heartbeats he's ever felt. It travels through his—almost always numb—fingertips and it's… calming, even for him.

_An actual heartbeat…_

He's never noticed this, but the boy is… so soft and warm—he's…

Is _this_ what a synth is?

He keeps his fingers there for a moment.

_And… if he_ is _a synth?_

Apollo thinks about it… He hasn't done nothing to threaten or harm him… He's just… _small_ is all. He's not like those synths from those stories. He asks a lot of questions, but if he's a spy, why would a spy care about soda and laundry? What if he's a _good_ synth? _Are_ there good synths? Maybe Apollo's found the one good synth? A synth that was tied up, blindfolded, and thrown in a cage…   

_"Ay dios mío…"_ he mutters to himself, letting out a shaky breath. A machine that loves to ask questions, that bounces with his steps, that likes sodas, that holds onto him wherever he goes.

A machine that follows his every word.

A machine that trusts him.

_A little boy that trusts him._

_“Coyote, ¿qué hiciste?”_

He doesn't know why, but he pulls the boy tighter against him, holding his hand over his little heart.

_… Well._

He _does_ know why, actually.

He realizes _what a fucking asshole he is_.


	6. DO OVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo has his first day with a new outlook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! Two chapters in one day? Crazy! 
> 
> Chapter six went through a few variations but it over all kept the same theme. This is supposed to be a redo of chapter four. It follows essentially chapter four's plot and sequence, but the big difference being Apollo isn't a huge jerk to the kid and he tries to be better after his realization the night before. I really like Apollo. That's probably a stupid thing to say because I'm writing him, but I'm glad what kinda guy he is. I'm happy how he isn't so fucking stubborn, you know? How he can realize when he's messed up and how he can apologize. That must sound extra stupid cuz that's the absolute bare minimum, right? Anyways, I can't wait to get to the chapters where I talk about his past some more--which should actually be chapter nine or ten. Wink. 
> 
> I'm posting this chapter the same day as chapter five because 1) it's literally a re-telling of chapter four and I wouldn't wanna make the few people who keep up with this wait a whole week for that, 2) it's very short (like, ~3k words), and 3) I need time cuz chapter seven is giving me some issues ATM. Hope you guys enjoy this one too!

**06//DO OVER**

Apollo wakes up to the sun only starting to rise and painting the sky over New Sanctuary a deep blue color that fills his shack nicely. At some point in the night, he changed his position and is now on his back and with an arm above him and the other on the boy's shoulder, who's curled up into Apollo's side, holding onto a loose piece of his shirt.

He closes his eyes for a moment, wondering if he could just stay in today, but no, he can't let himself. He looks down at the boy and finds his fingers. He pulls them carefully off his shirt and sits up, not wanting to move the bed too much and plants his own feet on the floor and looks back down at him for a second as he pulls his hand back and curls up more with some slight movements.

He makes his way to his bathroom to start the day. After twisting the lightbulb filling the small bowl with some water, he cleans his face, fixes his hair, and brushes his teeth. He looks at himself in the mirror, examining his face. He's… not as achy as he's been the last few days and he wonders if the circles under his eyes are lightening up.

A deep breath: _"Lo puedes hacer, Coyote,"_ he tells himself quietly. _"Hazlo por Naomi y el niño."_  

When he finally steps out of the bathroom, he goes over to turn his radio off before it can wake up the boy. He grabs his boots and belt and brings them to his little table. He ties his boots, stands and slips his belt on, buttons his flannel shirt, and adjust the compression shirtunderneath.

 _“O.”_ He remembers something else. He unzips his suitcase and looks for something: a new bandana. He has a few still and he figures Naomi probably threw out the other one after it got ruined with the boy’s blood.

His gun and knit cap are the last things he grabs before he goes to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he looks back at the boy for a second. … Should he say something? Or should he let him sleep? He looks at the doorknob, at him, mulling it over in his head… Then he looks at the doorknob again.

_Fuck it._

He steps back to the bed and sits down, nudging him.

_"Hm…?"_

_"Hey, ugh… kid?"_ he nudges harder.

The boy's eyes open slowly. _"Oh… Hi, dad…"_ he greets groggily but smiling. He stretches and adjusts his position, choosing to keep his eyes closed.

_"Hey, I have to go to work—"_

His eyes open. _"W-Wait, c-can I come…?"_ he pushes himself up, waking up quicker.

 _"_ Really?" he squints and shakes his head after a beat. _"What—n-no, it's—"_

 _"Please?"_ he makes himself sits up, rubbing his eyes.

 _"J-Just stay here today, kid—I-I don't want a repeat of yesterday,"_ he tries to reason with him.

 _"I-I'll be careful! I'll be quiet! I promise! I… I just like being with you,"_ he pulls at one of his own sleeves.

 _Oh, Apollo can't say no to that_ : _"Fuck…"_ he mutters, scratching the back of his head. _"O-Okay, go wash up and use the bathroom if you have to."_

"Yes! I can do that!" he wobbles to the bathroom.

It takes a second before he realizes something. _"Wait—"_ Apollo follows behind this time, screwing in the lightbulb. "Why ugh… Why don't you also make sure you brush your teeth too? You had that whole thing of soda last night," he points to his toothbrush.

"What… do I do with this?" the boy asks.

"Dip it in that tin can and scrub all your teeth," he mimics brushing. "Rinse your mouth out with clean water after, spit it out, and pour it—"

"—i-in the green bottle! I remember!" he says eager to show him.  

He nods. "Don't get your bandage wet either, okay?" and he leaves him alone to go sit at the table, waiting a moment…

 _So, what if the boy is a synth?_ That's just… who he is, right? Apollo isn't exactly _typical_ , either. He… can manage it for a few days, Naomi will come up with a plan, and then this problem will be solved. What if he's the first human he's ever interacted with? Is that how synths learn? By watching? He can't let him think _all_ humans are assholes. Showing him to brush his teeth is a good thing. … _Do synth teeth rot?_

"I'm ready!" he bounces over, looking fresh.

"Your sleeves," he points out, reaching and rolling them, knowing… he… likes them… like that…

"Thanks!" his smile glows  

"Ugh… _Y-Yeah_."

Apollo stands up and they head out his shack (him leading the boy). He locks the door behind him and once he's a few steps ahead of him, the boy holds onto a bit of his shirt.

"You… don't have to hold onto me, you know. We're just walking down to the fields," he mentions.

"I-I don't want to get lost and—and I like how this feels!" he rubs the flannel between his fingers. "Our shirts match!" 

Apollo… blinks. He won't argue (but at least the boy has good taste in fashion).

"Are we going to take care of corn again?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"What about the other stuff?" (Apollo mentioned something about the other crops in New Sanctuary over dinner last night).

"Other people take care of those crops. I only take care of that specific plot of corn. Different people take care of their own plots of corn."

"But your corn is the best, right?"

Apollo… chuckles. Just once. "I mean, it's corn. You can't really mess it up." ( _"_ _A menos que no seas yo,"_ he thinks to himself, raising his eyebrows a bit).  

Together, they walk by other farmers on their way to the fields. He still gets some looks, but fuck them… He doesn't owe them an explanation. They even pass that provisioner who's always greeting them (at least Apollo thinks it's her) while walking with her brahmin.

"Morning, settlers," she greets. Her brahmin _moos_.

 _"D-Dad?”_ he whispers, tugging the bit of shirt in his hand. Apollo looks down at him. _“Can I touch that?"_  

"Ugh…" he blinks. _"A-Ask… her… first?"_ he says aloud, not completely sure?

"Uhm—" the boy waves, grabbing the provisioner's attention. "C-Can I touch that?" he points to her brahmin.

"Who? Belle?" she asks.

He nods quickly.

"Of course! Belle loves meeting new people!" she rubs one of the brahmin's chins. "Belle, say hi!"  

He moves over, bringing Apollo with him when he forgets to let go of his shirt. He reaches over to pet the brahmin, giggling as he feels her. Belle's tail moves a little and her heads bow. He makes sure to feel both of them while Apollo just eyes him though, letting him have his moment…

 _"T_ _an curioso,"_ he thinks again, but this starts to go on a little bit too longer than he’d like."Ugh—Come on. We need to get to work, so… say, uhm… goodbye?"

After a moment, the boy waves goodbye to the provisioner and Belle and everyone goes on their way.

"Did you see me touch it?" he asks Apollo excitedly, bouncing in his step.

"I… sure did…" he nods.

"Are there others like it?"

"Brahmin?"

"N-No, I think it's called Belle!" 

"Yeah, that's a brahmin. It's an animal. We have some around here. There on the other side of the fields."

"Really?" his eyes widen.

"Yeah."

"Can we see them?" he shakes.

"Ugh… The people in the stables are _assholes_ ,” he shakes his head. “They don't really like people going in and out for fun," he says, remembering a time he needed to go collect fertilizer from them.   

When they come to the fields, Apollo opens the gate and lets the boy in first, following behind and closing it. He walks them to his plot of corn and tells him to wait while he goes and gets his usual tools plus a bucket. A quick inspection like always and he leaves the tool shed, but this time, he stops to fill the bucket with water at the pump and it sloshes around when he puts it down back at their spot.

"Wh-What can I do? I'll be careful with the knife time!" he promises.

"Oh—no," he shuts that down _immediately_. "No, no knives today. I… want you to water the crops. Just take the water from this bucket and fill this up—" he fills a tin-can-turned-pitcher "—and water the corn," he demonstrates for him. "Just a little bit of water is good enough. Easy."

"Oh! Okay, yeah, I-I can do that!" the boy takes the pitcher and fills it up, watering the corn.

Apollo starts doing his work and a bit into it… it's quiet. … _Too quiet._

 _"Dile algo, Coyote,"_ he tell himself _._ He glances over, watching the boy carefully water the crops. He adds a little bit too much water at times, sometimes too little, but he's getting the hang of it.   

"… Hey, kid?"

The boy looks over to him. "D-Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no. I… I just… I just wanted to say that, I'm… I'm sorry about yesterday…" he makes eye contact with him. "I… lost my cool with you and I shouldn't have told you to be quiet… That was… _really_ fucked up on my part a-and… I shouldn't have… done that to you. I… I _need_ to know if you're doing okay or if you hurt yourself, yeah? Here or at the shack. And… if you want to talk to me right now, then… go ahead," he looks back to his stalk of corn. "It's… better than just working silently anyways," he half-lies. He likes the silence when he's by himself, but with the boy it's starting to feel like a different story.    

He takes a moment to process the apology before speaking: "… Why… Why does the corn need water?"

 _And it's another round of questions._ Apollo answers his questions about watering, maintenance, what he's doing—and the work day goes by quickly with a few breaks. With some pointers, he gets the hang of watering. At one point, Apollo drops a tool and goes to pick it up, but it falls yet again ("Ah—fuck!") and the boy giggles. … _It_ was _kind of funny._

When the work day is done and the boy no longer has any questions, Apollo gets them a drink of water from the nearby pump ("Are there Nuka-Cola pumps?" "No." _"Aw."_ ) and he goes to put his tools away in the shed before coming back to pick him up. Together they head for the gate and leave the fields.

"W-We're going to see Naomi, right?" he asks, holding onto Apollo's flannel shirt like usual.

_"Mhmm."_

"She's going to take these out?" he looks at his bandaged hand.  

He nods. "Your hand hasn't hurt today, right?"

"Nope!"

"That's good… Trust me: it's better it hurt a little yesterday than to let it get infected because it wasn't taken care of… Infections aren't fun."

"Have you ever gotten an infection?"

"… No. No, because Naomi always cleans my cuts. That's why if you ever get seriously hurt, see her, okay? Even if—" he stops, catching himself… He was going to say, _'even if I'm not around'_ , but he doesn't think that the boy will stay with him much longer… "… Well, _you know_. Friends… don't let their friends get hurt. That kind of stuff," he comes up with on the spot.

He's quiet for a moment, nodding, until he asks: "So you and Naomi are friends?"

Apollo's taken back a bit. "Yeah. What, you don't think we are? We've been friends since… Shit, since I came to New Sanctuary."

"When did you come to New Sanctuary?"

"It's ugh… been a bit."

"… _Where_ did you come from?" he asks with genuine curiosity.  

"A… faraway place. D-Don't worry though, most of my stories are from my time here," he says, hoping that'll deter him from asking about home. "Look—we're here," and they climb up the stairs to the clinic. Apollo knocks on the door. "Nai? Hey, Nai, it's us."

_"Let yourselves in!"_

He opens the door and leads the boy by the shoulder, letting him in first.

"Hey!" Naomi greets from her desk, putting her comic down, "How's the hand, kiddo?" she asks.

"I-It's good!"

"Great! You ready to get those sutures out?"

He nods, smiling.  

"Okay, why don't you two go inside the exam room and I'll be there in a second," she gets her feet off her desk and stands up, going to the supply room.

"Come on," Apollo leads him into the room and he hops onto the exam table. "… Ugh… Want… me to sit with you?" he asks him.

"Please?" he asks, and Apollo sits down. He looks at his bandaged hand and then to him: "Does… Does it hurt getting sutures taken out?"

He shakes his head. "It'll feel weird. You'll be okay though. You… managed getting those sutures pretty easily, right?"

He shrugs. "Only because you were there," he leans on Apollo's arm while looking at his own bandaged hand still, feeling the texture of it.

He… doesn't know what to say, so he goes back a bit. "You… ugh… only have a few stitches anyways. This'll be done in a few seconds, just watch."

Naomi walks in and sits in her rolling chair. "Okay, I hope you two had a much better day today?" she rolls over with her tool tray in her lap.

"Yeah! Dad taught me how to water corn!"  

"Oh, you… took him to work again?" she asks Apollo.

Apollo shrugs. "He… likes to be around me and… watering corn was the perfect job for him. No knives, nothing sharp, just… watering,” he defends himself. “Y-You try telling him _'no'_.”

She nods a little and her hair bounces, accepting that answer. “Fair enough. Alright—hand, please," she gestures, giving the boy a big smile.

He sits up straight and slowly offers his hand. She removes the bandage, and everyone takes a look at her work (she's amazing at stitching people up).

"This might feel a little strange, okay?"

"… Okay."

She snips the first suture and pulls the loose thread. He wiggles, feeling it slide out of his skin, but he's okay. She does it a second and a third time and, like Apollo said, is done in less than thirty seconds.

_"Ta-da!"_

He smiles, moving his fingers. She doesn't give it back quite yet though—instead, she examines it some more. "That stimpak healed your cut quickly. See? It's back together," she shows him as she uncovers a small can ( _"¿Les ayuda?"_ Apollo thinks). "This salve—" she takes a smear of goop from a can and rubs it where the stitches held his wound close "—will help those little dots close up nicely… Your hand doesn't seem any redder than usual and it doesn't hurt?" she asks, gently pressing on the spot between his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head so she leans back, "Then you should be good to go, but I need to talk to your dad—" (Apollo rolls his eyes, but lets it slide this time) "—real fast, so, can you wait in here for a moment?"

"Ugh—"

"I'll be back," Apollo tells him as he stands up.

He nods and starts examining the dots on his hand as Apollo follows Naomi out and she closes the door, leading him a few more steps away.

 _"Coy, I ugh… got into contact with someone,"_ she leans against her receptionist's desk, crossing her arms. 

He nods… _"Okay, so now what?"_

 _"They can be here in about two—"_ she holds up two fingers on her right hand " _—days and they'll know what to do with him; where to take him, who can watch him. That kind of stuff."_

 _"Yeah… Yeah, that sounds like it'll better for him… So…"_ Apollo lifts his shoulders with his hands in his pockets like usual, _"Does… this mean he's… you know?"_

 _"_ Yeah _. … I—I-I mean, a-at this point, I… It's… most likely."_

_"… Should… I tell him? A-About the plan."_

_"That's what I was wondering,"_ she puts her hands on her desk behind her, tapping her fingers. " _He's… He_ really _likes you, Coy. I-I don't know why he's determined you're his dad, but… when I think about it, I-I don’t know what to expect either way. You say something and it could really mess him up, but if you don’t say anything, he probably won’t like that either. I mean… What’s going on in your head? Have you thought about… I don’t know; changing the plan?” she_ looks at him, expecting a no.

“Changing the—wait, you mean— _what?"_ he shakes his head immediately. _"N-No, no, I can't raise a kid… I… It'll be better for him… He'll… I-I'm not his…"_ he trails off, shaking his hands… _“He needs someone who can… who can take care of him, not some…_ me _. I… No, Naomi…”_

 _"No, no. I-I understand completely. Just hang tight: two days, okay?"_ she nods a bit.

_"… Okay."_

Naomi leads them back to the exam room and they enter, seeing the boy tracing the designs of his borrowed flannel shirt, kicking his legs.

"Sorry we kept you waiting!" she announces. "Just had to tell your dad some boring grown up things, but you're pretty much good to go!"

"Oh, okay! You ready, dad?" he asks him. Apollo nods and he hops off the table, bouncing over to grab his shirt. Naomi smiles looking at how he holds onto him like that, but… Apollo feels… weird. He wonders if he should've eaten something this morning.

"Thanks, Nai."

"Bye, Naomi!"


	7. THE DISAPPEARANCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a small change of plans when Naomi has some unsettling news for Apollo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter seven! This chapter was honestly really tricky to write because originally, I only had the final conversation between Apollo and Naomi done. My plan was to have included it with chapter eight, but I ran into a few issues: 1) it wasn't long enough to be a chapter on its own, but it was long enough to make chapter eight _really_ long and I didn't like the idea of a chapter being over multiple days. I like to have the chapters be about one day, y'know? So I had to fiddle with stuff, rearrange dialog, and add actions to get a full, post-worthy chapter for chapter seven.
> 
> I'll admit, this one _might_ be a weaker chapter, like chapter six. I apologize, but hey, it moves the plot and I get to have some great Naomi and Apollo interactions! Plus, I think part of me wanted to get through this chapter cuz I want to get to get to chapter eight quick. It, next to chapter five, is one of my fave chapters to have written just cuz I tease the few of y'all with some delicious Apollo lore. I think he and Naomi both have some great stories that'll slowly come to light and I'm really happy with how I've done their lore, so, this is me humble bragging.
> 
> Oh--right--I also name drop someone named Samantha. I went back to chapter two and vaguely squeezed her in. She's essentially in charge of all the farming stuff for New Sanctuary. There's a... not really a "council", but Naomi is in charge of all medical stuff, Samantha is in charge of farming, and I'll squeeze in someone who's in charge of engineering and another person for trade. Besides Naomi, the other three probably won't be "seen", but I thought it would help give New Sanctuary some order and structure.

**07//THE DISAPPEARANCE**

After Apollo and the boy come back to his shack, he cooks them some food and the two stay inside for the rest of the day—Apollo passing the time with his all-time favorite gun-cleaning and the boy takes a spot across from him, asking him about how it works (“Does it have to be loud?” “Kind of, if you want it to be any use.”) and stacking the items in the box Apollo keeps his cleaning stuff in. Bedtime comes and the two get some sleep and the next day starts typically: Apollo wakes up to the sound of Radio Freedom, gets ready in the bathroom, and greets the boy when starts to stir in his sleeping bag.  

"Morning, kid," he greets, as he ties his boots.

 _“Morning… dad…”_ he curls up tighter. _“A-Are we going to work…?”_

"I am,” he says—like he says every morning. “Let me guess: you want to come with me to work?" he asks him (expecting a yes) and the boy, still half-asleep, nods. He knows not to fight it by now. "Okay, but I need to wake up first."

_"I-I’m… up…"_

"Are you?"

_“… No…”_

"You can stay in if you want," he reminds him— _like he says every morning._

_"No, no, I-I want to go with you…!"_

"Okay, okay, I'll wait. We have some time."

He gives him time and he eventually crawls out of his sleeping bag and hobbles into the bathroom to get ready for the day too. Apollo sits at the table, waiting for him and trying to think up of something he can give him to do today… He slicks his hair back and holds his knit cap in his hands until he steps out of the bathroom.

"Need help with your sleeves?" Apollo perks up, putting it on.

"I-I think I got it!" he walks over, putting the finishing fold on crooked left sleeve and demonstrating his hard work. "See?" It’s a _cute_ attempt.

Apollo smirks. "I guess you don’t need my help anymore."

He looks at him, bouncing on his feet. "N-No! I-I can’t do this one!" he wiggles his right arm, sounding worried.

 _"I’m kidding,"_ he says, motioning him over and neatly folds the boy’s right sleeve. "There you go."

"Thanks!"

"You ready to go to work?"

"Yeah!"

Apollo stands up and the two leave the shack. The boy holds onto Apollo’s flannel shirt and as they make their way down the road, the boy tries his best to walk on all the cracks in the pavement as if they were a track. He has a skip-like quality to his gait that’s kind of adorable to watch.

"You missed one," Apollo points with his eyebrows. The boy hops onto the unseen crack and giggles and Apollo rolls his eyes, smirking.

They get to the fields and Apollo grabs some tools for them and the work day starts. It’s overall uneventful. He gives the boy something safe to do and they spend their morning chatting and getting some good old farming done. Today’s topic is Apollo’s trusty gun after last night (“What does the '10' mean then?” “That’s the type of bullets it uses.”). Hours go by and they take their water breaks and the boy mentions how he can’t wait to eat afterwards. When the day is done, Apollo returns the tools to their proper shed and he and the boy head back to his shack. Instead of stepping on the cracks, the boy tries his best to avoid them. (“Why the change?” “Because I-I already did it the other way!”)

"So, what do you want to eat?" Apollo asks as he guides the boy by the shoulder into the shack.

"What do you have?" he bounces over to the rations as Apollo closes the door and follows.

"We've got… Meat… Ugh… Some vegetables… Same things as usual…" he says as he starts to sift through his rations.  

"Do you have more corn?" he reaches into the box to look through the cans, too.

"I can do corn, yeah. You sure that’s what you want?" he asks and the boy nods. "Okay," he says, placing some cans next to the stove top. "Let me wash my hands and I’ll start cooking."

"Okay!"

He cleans up in the bathroom and glances at his reflection; his brows eyes, the light bags under them, that rugged, stubbled face. He feels his face and pats his face, smiling a little at himself. When he stops to think about it, this is so… _strange._ These days get easier by the hour it feels. He didn't think he'd be able to come around to the idea, but he's… enjoying himself. He never imagined that one day he'd be playing babysitter, making a meal for a kid. Not just any kid either; his—

… His… smile fades away and he sighs. He feels something in his gut, but he shakes his head. He probably needs to eat too, so he hurries up and steps out of the bathroom, spotting the boy searching through the box still. He served himself some drinking water too.

"What're these?" the boy lifts an old cardboard box with nonsense writing scrawled on it, crossed out, rewritten and numbered and repeated (the joys of recycling).

"Those are…" Apollo moves over and grabs the box to examine them too. "Wait, what the fuck are these?" he doesn’t even remember. He opens the box and shakes whatever's inside out. It's wrapped in old world plastic. " _‘Fancy Lad’_ —Oh, these are those Fancy Lad cake things."

"What are they?" he asks, rummaging through a compartment in his rations box. "You have another one like it!"

Apollo completely forgot about these. The people in charge of rationing try their hardest to include sweet treats every so often as a dessert or pick-me-up when they distribute the food (and even if they can’t give everyone pre-war goods, sweet rolls are a common treat that can be made with post-war ingredients).

"This is sugar on top of more sugar," he shakes the wrapped treat. Its hard frosting is layered on top of a greasy looking cake, but it's still edible (an old world rumor—according to Naomi—said these cakes could last through a nuclear apocalypse and it turns out she was right). "I didn't even know I had these. I usually just give them to Naomi…"

"C-Can we eat these instead of corn?" he looks at Apollo.

He shakes his head. "No no no; Naomi will kill me if I'm only giving you junk food." He puts the cake back in the box, but sees the boy drops his shoulders a little and looks blue and Apollo sighs. " _Ay, para, para,_ " he gestures downward with his hand. "How about this: we eat our normal food and afterwards, if you're still hungry, we'll split _one_. Deal?"

He perks up and nods.  

"Why don’t you clean up too, then? I don't want you eating with dirty hands."

"Oh! Okay! I can do that!" he bounces over to the bathroom and Apollo looks at what he'll cook: some canned meat, corn, and—for the hell of it—some carrots. He starts cooking (and puts some water on to boil too), opening the cans and heating everything on the same pan and he gets lost in his thoughts, thinking about… _stuff._ Mostly stuff about the boy. As the corn and carrots cook and the meat starts to sizzle, the boy steps out of the bathroom and quickly collects the water he was drinking before sitting on his crossed legs in his chair and looking at whatever there's to look at in the shack.

"Dad, can I bring the radio to the table?"

Apollo—snapping out of his thoughts—glances to the radio on his nightstand. "Ugh, sure, yeah. Just… be careful you don't drop it."

He claps his hands excitedly, and hurries over to it; bringing it back, carefully, to the table. He sits down, playing with it. He turns the various knobs, tweaking with the tuning, volume, and even the lights on it. He giggles as he dims and brightens them over and over.

“How do you get it to talk?” he asks.

“Turn the ugh… tuning one,” he gestures with his right hand.

He takes a second to find out which one says TUNING and turns it slowly, stopping when—through the nonstop static—he hears something:  

_"—afternoon, Commonwealth. This is Radio Freedom, the voice of the Minutemen…"_

He perks up. "Dad, look! It’s talking!"  

Apollo looks over his shoulder. "Yeah, that’s the station that wakes me up for work."

"Wow! You have someone talk to you just to wake you up!" he bounces on his crossed legs.

"Well—no, they don’t specifically call me. The radio just picks up the signal and plays it. Those guys just play the time and sometimes talk about the weather."

"Th-They call everybody? With the radio?"

Apollo tilts his head side to side, focusing on not burning the food. "Sort of? I don’t know the exact science behind radios. There’s a big, ugh… thing that… sends out the signal. Then the radio picks up the signal and makes noise. There are other stations too, you know."

"Wow!" he turns the knob some more. Static. Static. _Static._

_"… Diamond City Radio wouldn't be possible without the help of some wonderful businesses here in town…"_

"Oh! There’s something else!"

"Yeah, that’s the radio from ugh… Diamond City."

"What’s Diamond City?"

"It’s this place in Boston. Kind of far from here," he explains. "I went there once. It sucked."

"Is that… bad?"

"I mean…" he thinks of how he would explain it to a kid, but just goes with: " _Y-Yeah_. It wasn’t fun at all. Lots of shitty people and _way_ too many guards at every corner always looking at you. Decent noodles, I guess? I only stopped because I was…" he remembers he was nearby in the Alley on some… _personal business_ , but he doesn't want to tell him _that_. "Ugh… nearby. In the area. Around. Yeah."

The boy sticks the tip of his tongue out. "Were they mean to you?"

"Nothing I couldn’t handle," he shakes his head.

"… What should I do if someone’s mean to me?" he asks.

Apollo thinks about that. He can’t tell the boy to jump the asshole and beat the shit out of them (or, well, he _could_ but he _won’t_ ). "Ugh… How about this: if someone’s mean to you, you tell me, and… _I’ll_ handle it." _He_ can jump the asshole and beat the shit out of them. … Not that it'll happen. Probably.   

The boy giggles and agrees to that plan. "Okay!"

The food finishes cooking, and Apollo puts the boy's portion on his plate and brings it and the pan over to the table. He wiggles in his seat, happy to see the food and takes the fork Apollo hands him (Apollo also serves himself some tea he brewed).

"Let it cool," he says and the boy nods.

He prods the cooked carrots. "What're these?"

"Carrots."

"Oh! You told me about these!"

"I did."

“A-Are they good?”

“If they weren’t good, why would I cook them?” he teases. He grabs a cooked sliced and pops it into his own mouth, lifting his eyebrows twice.

The boy waits a moment before nibbling on one. "These _are_ good!"

"Told you," Apollo comments, picking at some meat with his fingers this time. They eat their food and the boy asks all about carrots and what vegetables go great together at first…

"Can I try your tea?" he asks.

Apollo chuckles. "Sure, yeah, but I don't think you'll like it," he slides it over. "Go slowly." 

The boy does so and has a sip, scrunching his face at the strong, bitter taste and quickly passes it back.

"Oh, you don't know what you're missing out on," Apollo has a bigger sip without breaking eye contact. The boy giggles, grossed out that he _likes_ that stuff.

When they finally finish their food, Apollo upholds his half of the deal. He grabs and unwraps a Fancy Lad and breaks it with his hands, giving half to the boy.

The boy takes a bite and his eyes light up. "This is amazing! I-It's like a Nuka-Cola!"

Apollo smirks, eating practically crumbs. He hates the greasy after taste and the icing crunches, but the boy's happy. "Take it slow. I don't want to spoil you with sweets every day."

Now the boy asks Apollo about sweets and sugars, but he doesn't have a lot to add on account of not being into sweet foods. While the boy wants to keep talking at the table, Apollo asks him to hold a thought so he can collect his bucket and some water from the bathroom. He brings it back to the table, collects some powder from his stuff, and soaks the pan and plate. He opts to clean the dishes while they talk. Once he picks up on the boy yawning and rubbing his eyes, he suggests they get ready for bedtime. The boy uses the bathroom first and crawls into his sleeping bag after.

Apollo takes his time before stepping out and sits on his bed, ready to—

There’s a rhythmic knock at the door. _"Boys! It’s me! The lovely and beautiful and talented Naomi!"_ Another knock.

"Dad, dad!" the boy sits up.

"I heard, yeah," he gets up and answers the door.  

"Hello, hello!" Naomi wiggles her fingers at Apollo.

The boy squeezes past him to wave to Naomi too. "Hi, Naomi!"

"What's up, Nai? You okay?" Apollo gently pulls the boy and himself aside to let Naomi in.

"Y-Yeah, are you okay?" the boy mimics, bouncing on his feet.

"I actually need to borrow your _dad_ for a second!"

"You do?" he asks.

 _"You do?"_ Apollo follows up.

"Yeah! There’s a really big radroach in my supply room and I came here running to ask him to squish it for me!" she bats her eyelashes at Apollo.

Apollo groans. " _Ay_ … Let me grab my machete…" he goes to pick up his weapon from the side of his bed and slips the sheathe onto his back.

"Wh-What’s a radroach?" the boy asks.

"Big bug! _Really_ _really_ big bug!" she demonstrates its length with her hands. "I usually have to ask your dad to kill them for me."

_Apollo grumbles._

"C-Can I come?" the boy asks. "I-I can help!"

Naomi is about to say something, but Apollo speaks up: "No, no; I want you to stay here."

"B-But—"

He shakes his hand. "Trust me on this one, yeah? These things move fast, bite hard, and they make the worst fucking—" (Naomi widens her eyes at Apollo) "—noise when you crush them. Stay here and I’ll be back. I promise."

"… Okay…"

Apollo doesn’t like that. "Hey, hey… This’ll only take a few minutes and I’ll be back before you know it," he reassures him. "Here." He grabs the radio off the table and walks it over to the boy's sleeping bag. He motions him over and to sit down and takes a second tuning it to find some music; something soft and sweet. "Be good for me," he… pats the boy's head. _… That felt kind of weird._

The boy smiles a little, sitting on his sleeping bag and looking at the radio. "Okay. Can I stay up until you come back?"

"Yeah, that’s fair."

"A-And you'll tell me all about it?"

He gives the boy a thumbs up and they all say their goodbyes and Apollo leaves with Naomi. She can't stop smiling, stuck staring at him.

"What?" Apollo asks when he realizes she's looking at him.

"Nothing!" she looks forward, lifting her hands a bit.

 _"What?"_ he repeats.

 _"Nothing!"_ she repeats, too.

"D-Don't _nothing_ me!" 

She snorts. " _'Be good for me'_ ," she mimics in her best Apollo impersonation and he feels his ears get hot.

"Wh-What? I—"

"It's _nothing!_ " Naomi insists, biting her cheek to keep herself from laughing some more.

"I-I don't—him—want to—he— _ay_ , I don't have to explain myself to you!"

She breaks out laughing and Apollo gets grumpy. Once that's out of her system, she apologizes: "Okay, okay—I'm sorry, but that was _really_ fucking cute." She fishes out the keys to the clinic from her labcoat as they stand at the door (while Apollo keeps his hands in his pockets and feels his ears start to cool down). She steps inside first, and Apollo closes the door behind him.

"H-How the hell did a radroach even get back there?" he draws his machete and puts his hand on the door to the supply room. Carefully, he opens the door to peer inside, but… there's only a feint green glow from a wooden crate—

"Ugh… _Yeah_ , so, there’s not actually a radroach back there. I ugh… needed to talk to you. Alone" she starts. "About the boy?"

The way Naomi starts makes him furrow his brow a little as he closes the door again. "What's… wrong?" 

"Something's… _come up_. It's… about the person I got in contact with…" she takes a breath. "They, ugh… They aren't coming…"

"What?" he flinches. "Why?" he sheathes it.

"Th-They, just… aren’t. … Look—I-I don’t want to worry you, but—"

"Nai, did… something happen?" he squints suspiciously. "What’s going on?"

She rubs her knuckles together, quietly asking, "Do you _really_ want to know?"

"Y-Yeah!" he stammers. "O-Of course!"

"They, uhm… They're… They’re dead," she states.

Apollo gets cold. "… Wh-What…?"

She takes a breath. "They're dead. S-Someone found, ugh… their body in the middle of nowhere. A blow to the back of the head and out the front…"

_"… Shit…"_

She nods and then starts: "The people—they ugh… want to investigate this first and foremost…"

"What… does that mean?"

She braces herself. "Well, you're not going to like this, but… I have to ask if you can watch him for a while longer. I-I’m sorry, I know you're not—"

"No, Nai, I-I can watch him a little longer, th-that's not a problem," he offers (maybe a little too quickly), putting a hand up.

She blinks, surprised by that. "Oh. Really?"

"Yeah."

"O…kay. Yeah, okay, yeah, that's… good. That's good… Yeah, we just, ugh… need to let them figure out what the hell happened a-and when they think it's safe again, they'll send me someone else and it'll be taken care of, finally."

"How… long is that going to take?"

"It… could take a few days… maybe a few weeks…?"

"Ugh… Alright, yeah…"

"… Are you sure, Coy? About watching him? I’m—I-I know it was tough the first few days, a-and I appreciate you doing it…" she says. 

"No, it’s okay. I’m… I can watch him. I have enough food and stuff and he’s… okay. Doesn't… take up a lot of space, you know?" Yet something’s itching in the back of his head while he processes what's happening. He looks at Naomi and asks: "… Is… Is that all that happened…?" he asks. "Is that…" he rolls his shoulders a little. " _Normal?_ Lots of people die out there. Do they… really want to drop everything for this?"

"Do you…" she sighs. "Do you _really_ want to know?"

"I-If it involves him, yeah!"

She presses her fingertips together, bouncing her hands. "They were missing some things—a note I sent them about the boy, a holotape, something about a-a code? … It's all stuff any raider would have ignored… probably."

"Wait… What… does that mean? Does someone know something about him?" he asks, sounding… worried?

She puts her hands on his chest. "Nothing! Nothing! They just… The note mentions there's a synth in an area who could use some help, b-but I didn't specify what he looked like, his age, his relationship to you. No—Coy—that's dangerous info to pass around i-in a letter of all things… It's… Look: if you're worried you guys are in danger, I _truly_ don't think anyone would be able to figure out. This is just a precaution. They get skittish when something weird happens like and they want to look into this as quickly as possible."

"… But… you promise no one’s going to be banging on my door asking about him…?"

She claps her hands together and points them at him. "Have I ever lied to you?" she lifts her eyebrows.

"Naomi, you literally—"

She stumbles and stammers her words, cutting him off. " _Besides_ this instance."

"… No, you haven't. Not about anything important like this, at least…" he says.

"I just… I want to let you know what’s going on and I don’t want to worry you," she adds, rubbing her hands together.

"… Are… Are _you_ okay? You seem kind of shaken up, too," he notes.

"I-I admit, I… am a little on edge just because I’m being pulled in a few ways over this—"

"Wait, what?"

"What?"

"Why are they—How… How do you know these people again?"

She snorts and pats his shoulder. "Coy, when you’ve been a doctor as long as me, you start to rack up some pretty cool favors." He doesn’t buy that at all and looks at her funny. "Okay, fine—back a few years ago, I patched up a guy who gave me a card and told me he owed me one and I used it. You happy? But enough about me: has… anyone asked you about the boy? Do you have a… _story_ , maybe?"  

He shakes his head. "No one's asked about him and don't worry—I wouldn't even say much… No one here knows a thing about me… I doubt they'll care, but if anything, I just say he's—ugh— _mine_ and I decided to have him brought to New Sanctuary from somewhere else. Done."

"That'll work," she nods… "How… is he doing anyways?"

"He's… doing good? … I… think? I don't know," he admits. "I mean—I think he's okay. He's happy? I-I’m feeding him actual food… We split a Fancy Lad cake just now. He… brushes his teeth… Sleeps at night…"

"Well, okay. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, _you_."

"Ugh… I mean… It's… gotten easier," he admits, shrugging with his hands in his pockets. "I don’t… I don’t know—I just want him to… be safe a-and he’s… not that… big of a handful as I thought…"

"Kids are usually really easy, yeah. I mean: _usually_. Sometimes they can meltdown for no reason or over little things," she warns.

"No, no, that’s just it: he’s… _calm_. He likes to play with things and loves to ask me shit—oh my _God_ , he asks me about _everything_ and he’s so fucking curious," he says kind of… amused. He doesn’t sound annoyed at all. "The kid’s smart." 

She smiles a little. "Is he now?"

"Yeah… He remembers a lot of things I tell him, too."

"Hey, look at you!" she playfully punches his shoulder. "You’re showing him stuff! Hopefully it’s the right stuff?"

"Yeah. … I think? I-Is that… Is that how synths… I don't know; learn?"       

She shrugs. " _People_ learn in different ways. He's probably a hands-on kind of kid."

"… I guess. Yeah."

"Don't think too much about it. If it matters at all, from what I've seen—a-after the thing with the knife—" (Apollo grimaces, not wanting to remember that) "—you've been doing great with him. I mean, hell; you're taking him to work, splitting cakes with him, and letting him listen to the radio. Does Samantha know about the work thing?"

He shakes his head. "No, I don’t think so. Not like I ever talk to her anyways. But, ugh… Thanks, Nai. You thinking that I mean. It ugh… actually does matter to me."  

"Don't mention it," she pats his face. "That's all I wanted to tell you. Sorry to make you jump these hoops."

"No, I appreciate the heads up…"

"I'll let you get back to him then. Don't forget—you crushed a _really_ big radroach!"

He nods. "And, ugh… You know, you're always welcome by the shack…" he reminds her. "Doesn't have to be about bad news either…" he shrugs.

"I know," she winks. They say their goodnights and Apollo makes his way back to the shack. He keeps his head low and this only adds more to his already heavy thoughts, but he snaps out of it when he's greeted immediately by the boy.

"Dad, dad! What happened! W-Was it big? S-Scary?"

 _"So_ fucking _big,"_ he starts, closing the door behind him.


	8. THE PACK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo makes a choice about the boy. Whether it's right or wrong, he'll have to figure out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter. Spoiler alert. If you're anyone with reasonable intelligence--unlike me--you probably saw this name coming a mile away. In this chapter, I explore some more of Apollo's backstory--namely the naming customs of his people. Who are his people? Well, in time, you'll learn that! Following his people's customs, it probably makes sense why he's named Coyote to begin with. For clarification, Coyote is pronounced with the Spanish pronunciation /koˈʝot̪e/, and not the typical American English /kəˈjoʊti/ (so it's like 'koi-oh-teh' and not 'kai-oh-tee' if that makes sense). That's also why Naomi calls him 'Coy' and not 'Cai'. Lobo is pretty straight forward too--/ˈloβo/. Low-bo. Another thing was that I was really stuck on naming this chapter either **THE PACK** or **THE PACT**. I felt the canid named deserved "pack", but the pact coulda also been like... the deal, yeah? Eh, not really.
> 
> Anyways, yes, so, this is another important chapter for Apollo and Lobo's relationship because he starts to realize some things about how he feels being the boy's guardian and I'm a big sucker for these kinds of stories, so this is really great to write. It's funny because I had chapters 1-6 done, stumped on seven, and then 8-10 or 11 done. It really was just chapter seven that was giving me issues. Hopefully I'll be back on track with proper updates for the few of you that read this, heh heh.

**08//THE PACK**

_Today feels like a repeat of yesterday._ Apollo wakes up earlier than the boy (which sucks seeing as he had trouble falling asleep to begin with). He sits on his bed and sort of stares at him; peacefully asleep and watching him breathe. At work, he repeatedly glances at him and keep an eye on all his movements… When they come home, Apollo accidentally falls asleep for a little, but the boy nudges him awake.

_"D-Dad…?"_

_"¿Q-Qu_ _é_ _?"_

_"I'm… kind of hungry… Can you make us something?"_

_"Ah, shit—I-I'm sorry,"_ he sits up, stretching. He didn't realize he fell asleep. The clock on his radio says he was asleep for about an hour and a half. _"Y-Yeah, I'll start something…"_

Here they are, at the table. Music plays from the radio (that the boy asked to bring over again) while Apollo sits across from him as they eat their cooked rations. … Well, _the boy_ eats his own. Apollo's been busy looking at him like he has the entire day (who doesn't notice as he's too busy enjoying the food). Dinner's really quiet though; maybe the boy picked up on Apollo's down vibes today?

The boy looks up to see him looking at him. "… Is… everything okay? Do I have something on my face?" he asks, feeling himself.

"Huh—" he snaps out of it "—oh—ugh, no—sorry, I… I was…" he trails off.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You haven't eaten anything!" he points at the food in his pan.

"No, no, don't worry about me, kid—" he stops himself, feeling… weird about that, but he shakes his head. "Are you still hungry? You can eat mine," he offers, pushing his pan over.

He shakes his head. "I'm almost full!"

He pulls his pan back, going back into his thoughts… After Naomi told him that the boy would be staying with him longer, he thinks about the idea of getting him some clothing, an actual bed, and a toothbrush wouldn't hurt. The big thing on his mind revolves around the idea he _might_ actually need to give him a _name_ for the time being. He can't just keep calling him "kid". … Well. He _could_ , but that's just weird.

 _"¿No les dan nombres?"_ he thinks to himself, wondering if synths even _get_ names. L. 0. 8. 0. L0-80. Is that supposed to be his name? _'El-oh-eight-oh'?_ Maybe it isn't because when he asked him about his name that first night, he told him he didn't have one.  

Apollo doesn't realize, but he traces the tattoo onto the table.

L. 0. 8. 0.

L. 0. 8. 0

_L. 0. 8. 0._

_"… Espera…"_ he mutters (the boy looks up too, hearing him say something). Looking at the way his finger moves, he comes up with something. "Hey?"

"Yeah?" the boy replies.

"I… want to talk to you about something. Do you remember a few days ago when you sat down with Naomi a-and she asked you for your name? Are you… sure you don't have one?" he asks.

He shakes his head, "No. Why?"

"It's… It's just you need a name. Is…" he gestures vaguely, "… I mean, if you could choose, is there something _you'd_ like? Something _you've_ thought of?"

He shrugs. "I-I haven't really thought about it. … I like your name a-and I like Naomi's name! Can I use one of those?"

"Don’t you want something… more for yourself?"

"I don't… know what to think about…"

"But you can't like me calling you kid all the time, right?"

The boy shrugs again.

"I-I mean—if… you lost me in, say, a crowd of people, okay? And… you had to ask someone for help, what would you tell them?" he asks.

The boy thinks for a second. "That… I… can't find my dad?"

"Not a lot of people know who 'dad' is though, right? But you can tell them my…" he leads the boy a little. "… _Name—"_

"Apollo!"

"—instead, yeah! See? A name is kind of important. You… You really need one."

"Well, do… you have an idea for one?"

"… Ugh… It's… I-I don't know, it _just_ popped in my head…" he admits—

The boy gasps. "You do have one! What is it?" he leans in excitedly.  

Apollo thinks it over, embarrassed to be put on the spotlight. "I mean—I _just_ thought of it, but… thinking about it, i-it's an odd name. I-I don't think you’d—"

"Tell me, tell me!" he chants, bouncing in his seat.

He takes a breath. " _Well_ , just… It's an _idea_ , so if you don't like it, I won't take offense. I… just thought, what about maybe… _Lobo_ if you really couldn't come up with anything else, _"_ he lifts his shoulders slightly.

 _"'Lobo'?"_ he repeats.

"It's the ugh—" he clears his throat "— _a_ name from where I was born. It, er… in my people's language, it means wolf," he rubs his neck, wondering if it was even a good idea to suggest—

"Wait, what's a wolf?" he asks.   

Apollo blinks. "A… A wolf—you know, like… a dog? Bigger?"

"A dog?"  

"The… furry animal? Small? Four legs? Ears and tail?"

"Like a brahmin?"

"No, no—a lot smaller and… no, it's not a brahmin. I'm sure you've seen them. There are a few of them here in town. People keep them as pets, but—look, where… I'm from, my… people— _we_ … use names like Lobo, and Halcón, and Toro," he explains.

"Do those mean something too?" he asks again, leaning closer.

"Ugh… Well, _halcón_ i-is a hawk; a type of bird. Mean birds. _Toro_ is a bull—big, strong animal. They were the animals that became the brahmin."

"Wow!" he smiles widely, "What does 'Apollo' mean?"

_What does 'Apollo' mean?_

"… Actually… Ugh…" he takes his knit cap off to slick his hair back. "That's a little different…" he starts…

"Wh-What's wrong? Is it something bad?"

"It's just…" he sighs. "Well, I'm not sure how to say this, but… Apollo _isn't_ a name we use," he admits. He didn't think this would come up, but if the boy's going to be staying with him a bit longer… If he's going to be watching him until then…

"It's not?"

"No… No, it's… well—it's just… _Mira_ ," he leans on the table a bit. "I'll understand if you're upset that I didn't say anything before, but… ugh… Apollo isn’t my… actual name."

"… Oh…"

"… Yeah…" Apollo nods, tapping the table—

"What _is_ your real name then?" the boy asks, not missing a beat.

"Ugh—My… real name… is Coyote," he braces himself—

 _"'Coyote'?"_ he repeats, saying it like him (and not… really bothered by any of this). "What's a _coyote_?"

He blinks. "It's… The _coyote_ is another kind of dog, like the _lobo_ —"

"Wait, _lobos_ and _coyotes_ are dogs?" he interrupts.

"Well, yeah, but—"

His eyes light up immediately. "Y-Yes!"

" _'Yes'_?" he repeats.

"Yes! Yes, I want the name Lobo! It's like our names match!" he points between himself and Apollo.

He… smiles—just the _tiniest_ bit. "Are… you sure? You're not just… saying that?"

"Please?" his hands curl into fists.

Apollo _actually_ chuckles. "You're… sure? Positive?"

The boy nods, wanting this name _so_ badly.

"Absolutely sure? I'll understand if you—"

"I'm sure, _I'm sure!_ Please?"

"Ugh… O-Okay. Okay, uhm… _L-Lobo_ ," he pats the table. " _Lobo_ it is."

"Yes! Thank you, dad!" Lobo shakes his excited fists.

 _Dad…_ For the first time… Apollo doesn't mind hearing that… He smiles, looking at the boy—

 _Wait_.

"Oh—but—if anyone besides Naomi is around… My name is Apollo," he reminds him.

"Wh-Why not Coyote?" Lobo asks.

"It's… complicated," he admits. "I don’t mind if you call me Coyote, though. I mean—if you want to. I uhm… I-It's just a… _really_ … long story," he bullshits.

He nods… "Okay," and he looks at him with complete trust, smiling and named. They both look pretty content. Lobo has some more of his food and Apollo just… thinks.

"… Are you _absolutely_ sure you want the name Lobo?" he asks quickly—

"Yes! I like it a lot!"

"Fine. Okay. … But if you change your mind, just let me know—"

Lobo gasps. "Can we tell Naomi?"

"Naomi?"

"That I have a name!"

He blinks. "Ugh… Well..."

"Please?" he asks, lifting his shoulders a bit.

He looks out through his window. It's not… _too_ late and Naomi probably won't be busy at this hour… She visited him last night, so he should be allowed to visit her too, right? Lobo's ecstatic and this will probably be done in a few minutes; plus Apollo _does_ like seeing her too.

"Ah… S-Sure, let's… go tell Naomi."

Lobo finishes his food and rushes to the bathroom to clean up. Apollo sits at the table still, tapping his fingers and for a moment he wonders if he did the right thing, naming him. He doesn't know how long he'll stay with Lobo… It could be a few days to a week? Maybe more, maybe less? What's going to happen to when Naomi's people show up and want to take him? How's Lobo going to react?

_‘¿Cómo te vas a sentir?’_

That question flashes in his head for a second and it… scares him—why does he care? This isn't about him: it's about Lobo. He can't take care of a child or a synth or a child synth forever. What does he have besides this shack? Just going to work, coming home and staying inside all day? All he'd bring Lobo is… a shitty time…

"I'm ready dad!" Lobo breaks him out of his thoughts.

"Okay, come on," he gets out of his seat and grabs his pistol in its holster to wrap around his thigh before the two of them leave the shack.

Stepping out into New Sanctuary in the evening is a sight. Lobo loves how the street lights follow the road to the bridge one way and around the loop the other. People are walking around, socializing after another day of hard work, and workers are walking with supplies. Kids are running in small gangs, playing some kind of game. The bar is getting a lot of attention too. Thinking about it, Apollo realizes this is maybe the second time Lobo's seen the town at night. … They really need to get outside more.

He walks with his hands in his pockets and Lobo holds onto Apollo's shirt.

"I-I hope Naomi likes my name!" he looks up to him.

"I told you: if you don't like it or find something else you like you can change it. I won't mind."

"How am I going to find anything better? You picked it out and our names match! I never want to change my name!" Lobo smiles and… Apollo feels a little sad… He outwardly tries to look happy though.

They come to the clinic and Apollo knocks on the door. "Nai? You in? You want some company?"

_"Just a second!"_

They stand, waiting for her to get to the door. Lobo bounces on his feet, wanting to tell her the news about his name right now. Apollo… puts his hand on the boy's head and he goes from bouncing to wiggling.

The door swings open and Naomi is in her lab coat with her hair tied up high and a pair of goggles around her neck. She looks like she's been rolling around in the dirt and the clinic feels _really_ muggy…

"You, ugh… busy, Nai?" Apollo gives her a funny look (Lobo is also curious as to why she looks so dirty).

"Not at all!" she wipes her hands on some rag. "Come in, come in!" she gestures. When they pass through, she locks the door. "I'm working in the supply room!" she leads.

There's a strong odor that Apollo immediately recognizes coming from the back and poor Lobo scrunches his face. Naomi walks into the supply room, sitting on the floor next to a pot on two hot plates, side by side. 

"You're cooking those mushrooms, aren't you?" he asks.

"Yup! I got a great batch that's been waiting for a few days, and I got bored of doing inventory, so I decided to get some cooking done!"

"What's a mushroom?" Lobo covers his nose with both hands. "And what's that smell?" he asks, curiously sitting down by Naomi.

"Oh, it's these things!" she opens the wooden crate radiating light that Apollo saw the other night and pulls out a mushroom—cap and stem intact—that glows a warm green color. " _Glowing mushrooms._ These are edible on their own, but I use them to create chems and supplements," she explains as she puts it in his hand.

"It's like a little light bulb!" he says, pinching his nose with his free hand. "But doesn't the smell… smell bad?"

"I've gotten used to it. Plus, it really opens the sinuses," she takes a deep breath. "I have to cook them with some other things to make a chem called RadAway—" she stops to correct herself "—Well—it makes something _like_ RadAway," she brings her goggles up and stirs the bubbling pot. "The real medication can't be made anymore, but people found out you could use these mushrooms and some other stuff to help make something _really_ similar. This batch I'm making right now is going to make a _lot_ of units of RadAway."

"A-And what does it do?" he asks as he sits next to Naomi while studying the mushroom some more (Apollo leans against the doorway, hands in his pockets).

"It helps people suffering from radiation sickness."

"Radiation sickness?"

"See, when you're outside in the wasteland, everyone always accumulates _some_ radiation in their body. If you're careful, you can avoid _most_ of it, but sometimes people stick around somewhere too long or eat or drink something radioactive. That means they get a lot of it built up inside and that causes some bad things—weakness, confusion, bleeding. _Death._ RadAway—this chem—will help clean it out of their system and get them back to normal."

"D-Dad, dad! Did you hear that? If we ever get radiation sickness, we can come to Naomi!"

"Yeah! But—" she gets serious "—try your best not to get it."

"Oh! Okay!"

She smiles. " _So!_ What brings you two here?" Naomi looks at Apollo. He, however, nods his head up towards Lobo. She follows it back and sees him smiling ear to ear.

"I have a name!" he announces.

She raises her eyebrows: "You remembered your name!"

"No! Dad gave me a name!" he points to him. "My name is Lobo!"

"Lo… bo?" she asks. "What's… the story behind that one?"

"It's a wolf! B-But I don't know what a wolf is, but I like it a lot!"

"How is… that spelt…?"

He looks back to Apollo. "D-Dad, how do I spell my name?"

"… L-o-b-o," he says, trying not to look at Naomi.

Lobo turns to Naomi now. "L-o-b-o!"

"L-o-b-o," she repeats… Apollo can see she knows _immediately_ where he got the idea, but she puts on a happy face. "Well, congratulations, _Lobo!_ I'm glad you got a name! It's a very cute one too!"

"Me and dad are both named after dogs!" he quickly turns around to look at his dad. "Y-You said I can call you Coyote when we're with Naomi, right?" he asks (she's surprised by that).

"Ugh—yeah, yeah, that's fine…" he nods.

"Coyote and Lobo. Huh," she smirks. "Sounds like a really great pair," she gives him a thumbs up and Lobo mimics the gesture (Apollo… looks away for a moment).

He rocks a little on the floor before perking up. "So, i-is this a drink?" he peeks over into the bubbling—

"Whoa! H-Hey, not so fast!" she pushes him back (Apollo jumped to grab and yank him back). "I-It's boiling so I don't want it splashing you in the face!"

"Yeah, Lobo, why don't we let Naomi finish her work? It's getting late anyways," Apollo reminds him.

"But we just got here!"

"Sorry kiddo, but if your dad says it's bedtime, it's bedtime. Plus, I don't have any kind of safety gear for you. I'll tell you what though!" she gets up and looks around her shelves for… something. She has an intricate and detailed system of organizing the supply room. Shelves are lined with tools and instruments in all sorts of containers. There're plastic bins of chems like Med-X and Buffout (medications from before the war). Then she has a supply of stimpaks, antibiotics in a box, empty vials and syringes she'll delicately disinfect before reusing them. There's a refrigerator that's probably an amalgamation of five or six refrigerators used to store certain things. Her 'autoclave'—to disinfect her tools—is also just a microwave that's been patched and modified to use a fusion core (and lead panels) to clean with the power of the atom. How she that, Apollo will never know, but hey, it works.

_The safe, bolted to the floor, looks sturdy as ever…_

The most curious part of the supply room is the capsule maker. Naomi got her hands on this one of a kind machine a while back and she was over the moon. It lets her press capsules—usually for special medications—and she found a way to make capsules with scraps like plant materials and something from animal parts. _Very_ handy. She truly is one of the best doctors in the Commonwealth.  

"Here we are!" she finds a tin can and empties its contents (some rolls of bandages) into a nearby, reused, shopping basket. "Let me see that mushroom again?" she holds out her hand and Lobo gives it back. With the tin can, she opens her crate of mushrooms (letting out the glow but also a damp, earthy smell) and turns back.

"This is from _me_ to _you_!" she presents Lobo with a can of dirt and the fat, little glowing mushroom stuck in it.

His eyes widen. "I can have this?"

"Yeah! I'm happy you got your name! You should celebrate it! You can keep that little guy as a night light or something. Just splash a little water on him when he looks dry. Or eat him," she shrugs.

"Thank you!" he shows his dad, "Look! I'm a farmer like you!"

Apollo… smiles?

 _‘Cómo te vas a sentir?’_ flashes in his head again and the smile dies down. "Make sure you thank her then we'll head out."

"Thanks Naomi!" Lobo carries his glowing mushroom away.

"We'll see you around, yeah?" Apollo asks.

"Of course! Take care!" she waves at them.

They leave, Apollo locking the clinic door on his way out…

_‘Cómo te vas a sentir?’_


	9. THE QUEST FOR SUGAR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo wonders if it was a good idea to name Lobo, but that has to wait. Naomi has a job for the two...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter nine! So this chapter is a mini tour guide, kinda like chapter two was. The two don't go too far and we see some more of Apollo's perks--specifically bartering. If he had a SPECIAL, I don't think his charisma would be 10, but he gives off that... look that people don't want to fuck with. That's why he's great at bartering. 
> 
> This whole chapter is supposed to be a fun chapter and pokes little fun at how quests work in game. I guess you could say this is a fourth wall break? I don't know though.

**09//THE QUEST FOR SUGAR**

The next morning, Apollo is up earlier than the radio, so he gets up to quietly turn it off before it starts with Radio Freedom. As he cleans his face in his bathroom, he prods his face. He feels… _okay_. … Maybe. He managed to stay asleep almost all night, waking up once for a few minutes to turn over. He's accepted what happened and how the plan's changed, but he still wonders if he did the right thing naming the boy. Part of him thinks it's for the best, but—for some reason—another part thinks it might've been… _a mistake_. He pictures the boy in his sleeping bag right now, curled up and still asleep (which is funny as he kept fidgeting the tin can with his glowing mushroom in it before finally falling asleep—its glow is, so soft and pleasant in the dark, luckily doesn't bother Apollo). The boy has somewhere warm to sleep, food, water, a roof, and clothes—somewhere to clean up too; all things Apollo has given him. Why is a name so different?

 _"Se llama Lobo,"_ he makes himself say aloud after he spits his toothpaste. _"Lobo, Lobo, Lobo…"_ he repeats quietly, thinking if he says it enough times, it'll stop being weird.

_"Lobo."_

… He takes a breath and finishes with his morning bathroom routine and makes his way back to his bed. He gets his belt on then sits down, slipping into his work boots and tying them.

_"… Mm…"_

Lobo stirs around.

He watches him for a second, staying quiet as he finishes tying, but sure enough, he wakes up. He stretches his arms and adjusts himself, opening an eye and sees Apollo. _"Hi, dad…"_ he greets with a sleepy smile before closing that eye.

"Morning."

Lobo shakes his head (with his eyes still closed). _"N-No… Say my… my name…"_ he exhales into the crook of his arm.

"Morning, _Lobo_ ," Apollo smirks.  

_"Are we going to work…?"_

"It's safe to assume that I go to work every morning," he says. "And if you want to stay in and sleep, that's okay too."

He pushes himself up. _"I-I have to go now; I'm a farmer…! I need to learn how to take care of—"_ he yawns " _—him!"_ he points to the mushroom. Apollo looks at the mushroom. It looks back. _"I-I'll hurry up… Wait—Wait for me…"_ he says as he hobbles to the bathroom, stepping over his mushroom.

"Don't forget to brush your teeth!" he reminds him.

_"Okay!"_

_"Lobo, Lobo, Lobo…"_ he says under his breath, spacing out and getting into a staring contest with the mushroom by his sleeping bag. Lobo stepping out of the bathroom and asking for help with his right sleeve again snaps him out of it.

After Apollo fixes his sleeve, Lobo goes to his mushroom and picks it up by the can—

"Wait, are you bringing that along?" he asks him.

He looks confused. "You… said plants need sun and water! L-Like corn!" he holds the can with both hands.

"Well, yeah, but, ugh, mushrooms are different. Those things like _dark_ , _wet_ places. It's… technically not even a plant."

"Wait, really?" He looks sadly at his mushroom. It looks back.

" _Ay_ , hold on, hold on. Mushrooms are easy. Just—different. Ugh… Leave it in the bathroom. It should be okay in there while we're at work. It's dark enough and its dirt is still wet. When we come back, if it's looking a little dry, you can go ahead and add a little bit more water."

His eyes light up. "That's a good idea!" he says, jogging back inside and leaves the mushroom. _"I'll be back later!"_ he reminds it. It waits. "Okay, now I'm ready!" he hurries back to Apollo who moved over to the door. "Bye, Mushroom!" he calls out one last time to it before they leave the shack.

They walk down the road to the fields. Lobo rocks side to side, holding onto Apollo's flannel shirt (Apollo himself keeps a hand on Lobo's far shoulder so the boy doesn't accidentally fall over).

"Are you… really not cold in the mornings when we go to work?" he asks, out of curiosity.

Lobo shakes his head, using his free arm to hug himself. "Your shirt is really warm a-and it keeps me nice and warm until the sun comes out!"

"And you really wouldn't rather just stay inside and sleep until I come home?"

He shakes his head again. "If—If I come to work with you, we get to talk and be together!" he waves his hand between the two of them. "You show me a lot of cool things!" he says, adding a bounce to his step.

That feels like a gut punch to Apollo for some reason. He stays quiet until they get the fields and leaves Lobo at his plot of corn.

"Stay here," he tells him.

"Wait—can I come? I'm a farmer!" he points to himself. "I should know where the—the tool shed is!"

"Oh. … _Sure?_ " That… makes sense? There's no real harm in him coming anyways.

"Yes!" he bounces and holds onto Apollo's shirt.

For Apollo, the tool shed is just… a tool shed. For Lobo though, this is a collection of some of the _most_ interesting things he's ever seen.

"… You just take one of these boxes—" Apollo grabs a small wooden crate "—and fill it with the tools you'll use. I use these usually with the corn," he demonstrates which tools he grabs.

Lobo looks through the plastic bin Apollo pulled to grab something out of. "Wow, there's so many things here!" (there really isn't).

"Make sure you look them over. If something's broken, you have to let the people at the warehouse know so they can fix it or else they get on your ass about it," he says that with a sour tone having gotten into arguments with the warehouse workers before.

"There's so many steps!"

The two get back to Apollo's plot and he gives Lobo work. They chat about mushrooms today (shocker) and while Apollo has _some_ kind of idea how they grow, it's not as in-depth as corn (although he mentions an annoying fungus that can sometimes infect other people's corn crops). Time flies, they enjoy each other's company, and only stop when someone whistles at them.

_"Hello, hello!"_

They look over to see… _Naomi!_ She's hanging off the fence, looking much cleaner than last night. "Hey, you two!" she waves, wiggling her fingers. "You boys have a moment?"

"Naomi!" Lobo excitedly waves with both hands.  

Apollo stands up, dusting his jeans and wiping his hands on his back-pocket bandana. "Hey, what's up, Nai?" he asks as he and Lobo come over to the fence.

"So, is this… permanent?" she asks, pointing between him and Lobo. "I mean—don't get me wrong; it's cute! I love the angle as long as you aren't giving him anything dangerous"

"He's a farmer, Nai. His words—not mine—and no, he's just checking to see if any mushrooms are growing under the stalks."

"Thanks again for my mushroom!" Lobo interjects. "He's so bright!"

"Ah, I'm glad you like it!" she smiles. "Good to hear you didn't eat it too! Remember when I cooked us that soup with the mushrooms?" she asks Apollo (he nods, remembering what a great bowl of soup that was until they realized the soup made their piss glow for a day). "So how _are_ you two doing? Anything exciting going on in the world of farming?" she asks, grabbing her chin like an old world scholar.

Apollo shakes his head a bit. "No, no… Nothing to report," he shrugs a little. "The day's been pretty easy. What about you? Everything okay at the clinic?"

"Oh, _psh_ , yeah!" she waves it off, "Perfect. Great. _Amazing!_ "

Apollo… gives her a funny look. "You… ugh… okay, Nai?"

Naomi takes a dramatic breath as she leans on the fence. "Oh, my dear, sweet Coyote, have I ever told you how I think you're the _most_ amazing—"

He _instantly_ loses _all_ his concern. _"What do you need to me to do?"_

_"—wonderful—"_

"Nai."

_"—thoughtful—"_

_"Nai!"_

"— _handsomest_ guy in all of New Sanctuary?" she cups her own face, giving him a cute little smile.

"Yes, Naomi, I am _very_ aware— _what_ do you need to me to do?"

She hands him a baggy—caps? "I came down here because I'm giving you both a _quest_ ," she says with _absolute_ determination.

"A quest?" Lobo repeats with awe. Apollo furrows his brow a bit.

"A quest! You know? A journey? A task?" she looks between them.

Lobo shakes his head and Apollo just blinks.

" _What?_ I—I have _lent_ you my _Grognaks_ —even my limited-edition _Lady-nak!_ How do you _not_ —" she holds her hands up and shakes her head. "No—whatever, it's fine, just know you're no longer my best friend," she says with disgust, but gets serious again when Lobo's eyes get big for a second. "No I'm kidding you know I love you!" she blows Apollo a kiss. "I just need you to run an errand for me," she plays with a bit of her hair. "I'm going to be all out of Sugar Bombs and momma _needs_ her breakfast cereal," she pulls on the strand and it immediately coils back. "You want to do me a solid and pick some up for me at the Rocket? Nobody’s carrying them at the marketplace, the bar won't sell me any boxes, and I can't leave the clinic unattended too long because I have an appointment later today," she pulls and pushes away from the fence.

"Oh. Sure," Apollo stashes the caps in his pocket. "I can go after work—"

The boy tugs on Apollo's shirt. "No, N-Naomi said we _both_ have to go!" he whines.  

"I _did_ say I was giving you _both_ the quest," she nods, backing Lobo up. "Last I checked both means two," she shrugs.

Two against one. Apollo pats the boy on the head. "Okay, okay, _we_ can go after work. We should be done in a bit." ( _"Yay!"_ Lobo shakes his fists.)

"Yes! Perfect! Oh, this is great—I _cannot_ start my day without my favorite cereal. Thank you, thank you!" she steps away from the fence. "Swing by the clinic when you two come back!" she waves goodbye and walks back up the road.

"… We're on a _quest!_ " Lobo follows him back to their plot of corn.

"We're just running an errand," Apollo clarifies.

"Quest, quest, _quest!_ " he bounces.

He chuckles, amused by the boy's energy. "Let's finish work first. Then I need to grab something from the shack."

"Work, work, _work!_ " he bounces some more.

Work gets done and finishes like usual afterwards. The corn is doing great—completely mushroom-free—and it's looking to be a really great harvest. Apollo might even get a well-deserved bonus (while all citizens of New Sanctuary get somewhere to sleep, rations, and amenities like water and electricity, farmers get paid a flat fee plus a bonus based on any surplus after the harvest). Maybe he'll be able to take Naomi to Nuka-World after all…

The two clean up, get a drink of water, and head back to Apollo's shack. He just needs to grab his machete and his bag. Lobo runs off to use the bathroom and check on his mushroom (it's still there), but he stops when he sees Apollo slip both his bag and his sheathed machete on—

"W-Wait! Don't I get to help? You get both of those a-and we have to do this quest together!"

Apollo blinks. "Ugh. I mean…" he shrugs. "Which… do you want?" he gauges.

"Can I wear that?" he points to the bag. "A-And you can use that!" he then points to the machete. He answered correctly, so Apollo removes his bag and adjusts the straps for Lobo; helping him into it. He bounces, saying, "Thanks!" as he claps his hands together.

"Okay, any more demands?" he teases and Lobo (missing it) shakes his head, ready to go. They leave the shack and once again, head down the road and cross the bridge out of New Sanctuary (after Lobo stopped to look at the water running underneath).

"So, where is the Rocket?" he asks, holding onto a bit of Apollo's shirt.

"Oh, we're here already."

"What?" he looks around.  

Just after the bridge and following the bend in the road, they arrive at the Rocket. Guards patrol the road leading to and from the station. Traders have their stands open and one or two travelers have set up shop with their brahmin carrying their goods. There are people sitting inside the small station, chatting and eating. A traveler comes down from the rooms up on the roof. The garage is a public workshop and someone's making use of to repair something.

"Oh! I remember this place!" he tells Apollo.

"… Ugh… _Yeah_ ," he was kind of hoping he _wouldn't_. "It's nothing exciting… Just need to find someone who'll sell us Sugar Bombs…" he sort of derails, not wanting to talk about that night.  

The two take time to browse the traders' stands. The vendors all try to sell Apollo junk he doesn't need or want, but Lobo loves looking at all this crap (he has to point and ask Apollo about _everything_ he sees).

"What're these?" he asks, reaching for a green and orange box—

 _"Espérate—"_ he pulls Lobo's hand back "—ugh—a-ask people here before you start touching their stuff, yeah?" he tells him quietly.

"Oh! Uhm—excuse me?" he waves at the vender a foot away from him. "Can I pick this up?"

"… Sure. Doubt a squirt like you could get far," he shrugs (Apollo gives the man a look).

He picks up the box with permission. "What're these, dad?"

"Bullets."

"Oh! Like for your gun! Do you need any?" he rattles the box.

Apollo shakes his head (they're not even 10mm rounds). "Remember, we're here for _Sugar Bombs_ ," he reminds him. "And make sure you put that back where you found it."

He replaces the box on the trader's stand and follows him to another stand.

"You got Sugar Bombs?" Apollo asks the trader.

"Nope. Sold my last box back at Starlight. Could I interest you in some potato crisps? They're still crunchy!" she flaunts a tube of the crispy snack.

He shakes his head and moves onto _another_ vendor and a vendor _after_ that. Not even the kitchen inside the station has a box to spare

" _Mierda…_ Does no one really have any Sugar Bombs?" Apollo puts his hands in his pockets as he glances at the various stands…

Lobo grabs hold of his shirt. "What now? Did we fail the quest?"

He thinks for a bit; it wouldn't be the end of the world, but Naomi's going to be upset if he comes up empty handed. … _But maybe there's another chance._

"You feel like going to Concord?" he asks Lobo. "We might be able to find someone to sell us some there."

"Concord! Yes! Where is that?"

"Come on, it's just down the road."

Apollo leads, and Lobo follows closely. The road curves a little and they cross an intersection and a sign welcoming them to Concord greets them. Like the Rocket, neither of them have been here since that night when Apollo tried to leave Lobo with the Minutemen, but started crying (he… sort of hopes Lobo doesn't bring that up...). The people of Concord are going about their days, giving the two a few glances as they way through the city.

"Where do people sell stuff?" Lobo asks.

"Fuck if I know. I never come here to trade… I think there's a shop by the museum? It's right down this way," he points with his eyebrows.

"This place is so big! Where are all the people?" he asks.

"This is… _them_ ," he says quietly, gesturing vaguely at the few people he can see (Concord is _really_ not that big, population-wise).

_"… Huh."_

_"Yeah…"_

They turn the corner at the museum with a Minuteman calling people to step inside. Apollo ignores him (while Lobo waves to him) and instead, sees a shitty little shop with GENERAL painted above it.

"This must be it," he says, getting the door and letting himself in first before guiding Lobo by the shoulder.

The store is _okay_. The mostly empty shelves are lined with junk and scrap, any broken windows are boarded up, but it's a little dim inside. There's a man standing behind the counter who perks up seeing a customer.

"Oh! Welcome!" the shopkeeper greets, putting his magazine down. "What brings you to our little slice of Commonwealth?"

"You got Sugar Bombs?" Apollo asks as he approaches the counter.

"Oh, that old breakfast cereal? Looking for a snack for your kid?" the shopkeeper asks, nodding toward Lobo.

"Sure. Do you or don't?"

"Alright, alright—give me a second. I keep the food back here," opens a door behind his counter and Apollo can hear him rummaging around.

"Dad! Dad! Can I look around?" Lobo asks.

Apollo, with his hands in his pockets, shrugs. "Sure." He himself doesn't move from the counter (if anything, he keeps an eye on Lobo to make sure he doesn't pick up something dangerous).

 _"Huh, could have sworn I had a box…"_ the shopkeeper thinks aloud… He moves cans and boxes around and mutters to himself while Apollo sighs and leans against the counter. _This takes the better half of a few minutes._ He might have to go to Lexington—

 _"… Ah! Here it is!"_ Apollo turns around as he comes out of the back with a box. "A little dinged, but it's still edible. Look—" he shows him the top "—still closed too."

"I'll take it," he says, ready to go. He gets the caps Naomi gave him. _"Lobo?"_ he calls over to the shelves.

_"Coming!"_

"How much?" Apollo asks the shopkeeper.

"15 caps."

Apollo scoffs (as Lobo plants himself beside him). "Yeah, no, I'll do 10."

"10?"

"Yeah, _10_."

"No, no—you can spare the extra caps. 15," he pulls the box back.

"10."

"I'm not doing 10."

"Okay, then I'll go to the Rocket down the road and by a box because I'm sure you don't need the caps anyways," he looks around the shop, putting his baggy back into his pocket.

"Ugh—what about 13?"

 _"10,"_ he counters with (Lobo watches quietly as they keep repeating numbers).

"12?" he stammers.

"Look—I'm putting 11 caps on the table. Take it or leave it," he places 11 caps on the counter.

"Ugh… F-Fine, okay, 11 caps," he slides the box over. The shopkeeper counts them all up before sliding them into a plastic bin. "Is that _all?_ " he asks, kind of wanting Apollo to leave.

"Yeah. Come on," he looks at Lobo, bringing the box with him. "Let's get back to Naomi."

"Okay!" he looks at the shopkeeper, waving. _"Bye!"_

The shopkeeper just gives them dirty looks as the two leave.

Once they get around the corner, Lobo asks: "Dad, what were you doing? You were saying so many numbers!"

 _"Bartering,"_ Apollo raises his eyebrows for a split second. 

"Bartering? But you said you would go to the Rocket to get a box, but they didn't have any."

"Well, _yeah_ , sometimes you… bluff—make them _think_ you're not going to buy anything, worry them a little. No way I was going to pay up 15 caps for a banged-up box of cereal—especially when people who come to town sell them for less. Lucky too. If he didn't fold, I was going to be shit out of luck," he says the last part quietly to himself.   

"Caps, caps, caps…" he repeats to himself… "Th-Those are the things on the bottles!"

"Yeah—we use them for ugh… money. You buy and sell stuff with them?"

"Do you have a lot of caps?"

He nods. "I have enough."

"Wow! How do I get caps?"

"Ugh…" Apollo blinks… "Did… Shit, did you want to buy something?" There's no way they can go back to that shop now.

Lobo thinks and perks up after a second. "How much is a Nuka-Cola?"

He has a good chuckle. "Depends? Why, did you want one?"

"If we find one, can I get it?"

"Sure. I'll, ugh, buy you one back in town. You… deserve it for working in the fields with me these last few days, anyways. Oh. Wait up a sec." He turns Lobo around by the shoulder (making the boy giggle) and Apollo opens the bag to place the box inside and closes it again. "There. You've got the ugh… _quest item_ ," he says, thinking he saw that in one of Naomi's comics. "Don't lose it, okay?"

"Okay!" he grabs onto the bag's straps.

They go back to walking and talking while he asks Apollo about caps and how much stuff is worth. They only realize they passed the Rocket when they're crossing New Sanctuary's bridge. They follow the road up to the loop and get to Naomi's clinic.

"Can I knock?" Lobo asks right as Apollo's knuckles are about the touch the door.

He nods.

He knocks. "N-Naomi? It's us! We're back from your quest!"

She comes running to the door. _"Ah! My sweet, sweet cereal!"_ She opens it, meeting the two. "Oh—and you guys! Of course!" she adds after giving it a thought. "Where're the goods?"

"Hand it over, Lobo."

Lobo pivots on a foot and shows his bag to Naomi. "The quest item is in my bag!" 

She quickly opens it, fishing out the box. "Oh, sugar—how I missed you!" she kisses the box.

"I thought you said you had some still?" Apollo asks while Lobo turns back around.

"Oh, well, I mean, I _knew_ you guys were going to get me some more, so I treated myself to a snack after that appointment. Ah, but, thanks you guys! I mean it!" she hugs her precious box.  

"Here, don't forget the change," he slips her the caps she gave him.

"Nice! Was this an easy find? How much was it?"

"They had none at the Rocket, so we had to go to Concord. Can you believe the fucking—" (Naomi darts her eyes to Lobo, but Apollo misses it) "—guy wanted to sell us the box for 15 caps—"

"—b-but dad bartered!" Lobo bounces. "We got it for 11 caps!"

" _Wonderful!_ That's the _Ol' Coyote Charm_ at work, I see!" she teases, pinching one of Apollo's cheeks (he is the _exact_ opposite of _charming_ ).

"Oh! Dad—" he turns to him "—can Naomi come with us?" He immediately turns back to her. "Dad said he'd buy me a Nuka-Cola! Do you want to come with us?" he asks (not waiting at all for Apollo's permission).

"Ah, I appreciate the invite, but I can't stay away from the clinic for too long, remember? You two go enjoy your drink though! I have a date with some delicious cereal after some more appointments," she caresses her box.

"Aw…" Lobo sounds bummed out.

"You sure, Nai?" Apollo asks.

"I'm sure. I promise though; I'll find some time to hang out with you two," she taps his nose.   

He shrugs a bit, sort of disappointed too, but he knows how busy she can be. "Alright. We'll see you around then. Come on," he pats Lobo on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we'll see you around!" Lobo mimics, waving to her.


	10. OVER A BOTTLE OF SODA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo and Lobo are done with their quest and it's time for Apollo to hold up his end of the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10! We're in the double digits! 
> 
> So, this chapter is a continuation of chapter nine. Thinking about it, I probably should have posted chapters 9 and 10 together, but I needed to tweak this one. I added some stuff, re-wrote something, tried something funny. Very early in a rough draft, 9 and 10 were on chapter but it got really long so I had to split them up. 
> 
> This is a really sweet bonding moment between Apollo and Lobo and I love writing these kinds of moments. Lobo is such a sweet, curious boy and I love how Apollo has softened up to him. Honestly, though, I worry if it happened too fast at times? No one's said anything on that though, so I can only assume the few people that're keeping up with this are okay with how everything is panning out. 
> 
> As for the chapter itself, we see the two guys explore more of New Sanctuary's loop--the part circling that big tree in game. That's sort of like the town's "center"? More important things are located there. They explored the market which is just a location I built in game with some mods and a buncha shop NPCs. They also reference a four story building--the tower--which, yes, I know, structurally, is probably impossible without proper building materials or foundation, but, hey, I've bent canon so far, why not bend some architectural rules? I don't think they'll be exploring the inside of the tower soon tho? I know they _will_ stop inside the warehouse in a few more chapters. 
> 
> Anyways, enjoy the read!

**10//OVER A BOTTLE OF SODA**

Leaving the clinic, Lobo turns to Apollo: "So wh-where can we find Nuka-Cola?" he asks.

Apollo thinks. The bar _would_ be their best bet, but so many people are coming in and out of it and he'd hate to see someone he doesn't want to see right now. Maybe he can buy some time and it'll die down a little?

"We can ugh… Let's check out the _market_ ," he suggests.

"Yes!" he holds onto Apollo's shirt as Apollo leads them to cross the road. "Where's the market?"

"It's this place," he points out as they walk up the loop.

The market is a large building where all of New Sanctuary's trade happens. Shops are run by the shopkeepers who sell and trade everything from general merchandise and supplies to clothing to firearms and ammunition. Citizens—and a lot of visitors from various parts of the Commonwealth—will stop to stock up on supplies or sell goods they found and make a quick cap. Traveling traders sometimes set up shop inside the marketplace if there's space available that day (if not inside, there's a little bit of space besides the building outside).

"Hey! Welcome to the New Sanctuary Market! This your first time here?" a shopkeeper managing a stand by the entrance to the building asks Apollo (who comes here _all_ the time for Naomi).

He rolls his eyes to himself and goes over to him. "You have a Nuka-Cola? I just need a bottle," he says, reaching for his own caps in one of his pockets. Lobo's too busy looking at all the stuff on display in the market.

"Ouch— _sorry_ , no, we don't sell food here in the marketplace. Travelers sometimes do, but we don’t have any tonight. You're going to have to go down the road to the bar for food and drink. If you'd like, I could show you!" he offers. "… Maybe, ugh, even get you a drink?" he asks as he leans on his counter.

Apollo—taken back—squints a little bit, wondering if this man has a few rads too many. He pats Lobo on the shoulder. "Come on, _Lobo_ ," he says, putting emphasis on his name and the shopkeeper realizes he's with a kid and quickly stands back up, embarrassed.

"Oh—w-wait! Can we look around? I never knew there was so much stuff here!" he playfully tugs on Apollo's sleeve, wanting to go to another section of the market.

 _"Por supuesto,"_ he thinks. "Alright, alright—lead the way," he follows along (hoping he didn't hear what just happened). At least they'll get away from this weirdo and kill some more time. Together they look at the stuff there is to trade. Lobo asks about most things and Apollo sometimes offers to buy him something ("No, no! I-I want my Nuka-Cola!" "You can get both.").

"Dad, dad!" he tries on a funny looking hat (Apollo thinks it's called an _ushanka_ ). "Isn't this cool?"

He grimaces and quickly pull that off his head. "Ugh—don't—d-don't just put any hat on your head…" he warns, ruffling the boy's hair (which makes him giggle, but he does it to brush away any lice that might've come from the hat).

"What about this one?" he hovers a fedora over his head (the shopkeeper smiles watching Lobo try on all these hats).

"Ugh… I'm not big on fedoras," he shakes his head.

"This one?" he models a newsboy cap.

"… _Better_ , yeah." It's true. He looks cute with it.

He replaces each hat where he found it and Apollo eyes somethings on the shelf behind the shopkeeper— _flannel shirts_ —before he beckons him to another stand.

Lobo looks at all sorts of guns (behind a locked case). Rifles, shotgun, pistols. Some weapons are even made out of pipes and scrap.  

"I am _not_ buying you a gun," Apollo tells him, crossing his arms. Naomi would probably gut him—like she's seen in her Grognak comics—if she saw Lobo with a gun.

"I-I don't want one. Some of these look really loud a-and I don't like that," he tugs on his own ears. "Did you get your gun here?"

He eyes the pistol strapped to his thigh. "No, I've had this for… ever. … I think."

"Wow!" he smiles. He hops around the vendors, looking at all the cool stuff ("Dad, dad!" he shakes Apollo's sleeve, excited over a Nuka-Cola truck). After he's had enough time to look around, he tells Apollo, "Okay, I think I'm ready for that soda now!"

"Ugh… Sure. Let's go," Apollo says. He leads them out and Lobo grabs onto his shirt (the shopkeeper that greeted him refuses to make eye contact though).

"Can we go that way?" he points in the opposite direction of the bar. "I want to see that place!"

"Nothing _to_ see. It's just the tower some people live in," he shrugs with his hands in his pockets. He still walks over though (anything to delay stepping inside the bar).   

The tower is a four-story complex with units inside. Non-farmers live in it. It's super cramped inside the units and Apollo's only ever stepped inside it once or twice for some business of his own. Their kitchens and bathrooms are communal—on every floor there's an area to cook and prepare food and an area to clean up since the units are too small for an actual stove or bathroom (there's always a tradeoff).

"Can we go inside?" Lobo asks.

Apollo shakes his head. "That place has a bunch of smaller rooms inside where people stay. It'd be like if… we walked into someone else's shack. That wouldn't be cool on our part, right?"

He softly gasps. "I-It wouldn't!" he shakes his head. "Okay, okay, then… What about that place?" he points besides the tower to a building closer to the river. "Or do more people live there?"

"No, that's the bathhouse."

The bathhouse is another communal amenity. All the citizens of New Sanctuary are allowed two, five-minute hot showers to per week.

"What do people do there?" Lobo asks.

"They go to take showers. You know? Stand under some water, clean up with some soap?"

"Oh, that sounds really fun!"

"Don't get too excited. You can only be in there for a few minutes at a time," he scratches his head through his knit cap. "I might actually have to take us over there pretty soon though." He'll probably have to start giving the boy one of his shower times… That is— _if_ … the boy stays with him much longer.

The two still along the loop when Lobo comments on another building. "This place is really big!"

The warehouse is another massive structure. This is where excess food, water, and supplies are stored and organized. There are lots of workbenches inside for people to fix their weapons or even press ammo (but for the love of God, the workers ask you please ask for the help before pressing the hazardous materials). This is also the hub for the maintenance workers and where rations get packaged and distributed.

"Yeah, I actually don't mind coming here… _Sometimes_. This is the place I told you about bringing broken tools, remember?" he asks and Lobo nods. "Well—when the harvest gets collected, sometimes I'll work inside helping clean the corn. It… passes the time."

"We get to clean it too?" he asks. Apollo nods as they walk on and pass Naomi's clinic again. "Dad! Look, we're back here! Do you think Naomi's free now?"

"Doubt it, kid."

"Aw… Wait—that's right, we're looking for my soda!"

"Yes we are."

"That has to be the bar, right?" he points to the busy building with lights and music and the sign that reads BAR painted above the door.

"That's… the bar alright. Let's… step inside…" he says, not _actually_ wanting to go… They cross the road again and stand at the screen door, while Apollo tries to act casual, looking for… _no one_. No one important. "Stay close to me, okay?" he says and Lobo nods. Apollo steps inside first and keeps a hand on Lobo’s shoulder. He holds onto Apollo's flannel shirt and presses against him, eyeing so many people in one tight space as they walk to the barkeep's counter.

Music plays on the radio—something deep and mesmerizing from an old world artist and she manages to capture heartache in her sad voice. It's louder than the radio at home, too. Lights hang from the ceiling and there's a lot of commotion in the back. Food sizzles and cooks, filling the air with a delicious scent. The barkeep works to keep orders on time. Apollo… eyes the people casually, making sure—

"Oh, hey there!" the barkeep waves. "You come back down to visit us again?" she greets ( _still_ unaware he lives here). " _Aw!_ And you brought your kid this time?" 

"Yeah, I'm just looking for a Nuka-Cola. You got any?" he asks getting close to her counter. Lobo looks around still. So many big adults in one place. They're laughing, telling stories and jokes, and having a great time.

 _"Hm…"_ she thinks. "Give me one second," he holds up her index finger and ducks to the back.

_"Hey! We have any Nukas?"_

_"Saw some cherries over here, but I don't think we have any of the regular stuff."_

Lobo bounces on his feet and Apollo puts his hand on the boy's head. "You good?"

He nods. "I-It's a little loud, but I like this place!"  

Finally, she comes back to the counter with something. "I'm out of normal Nuka-Colas, but could I interest you in a Nuka- _Cherry_?"

Lobo's eyes widen seeing the red soda the barkeep puts on the counter. "Wh-What's a 'cherry'?"

"Uhm… I've been under the impression they're these things?" she points to the small cherries printed on the label.

"Is… Is it good?" he asks Apollo.

"Shit, I… I wouldn't know. I've never tried it, but if you want to, I'll get it," he shrugs.  

"I-I want it then!" he says, hypnotized by the redness.

"Okay, I'll take it," he tells the barkeep as he looks for his caps.

"16 caps."

"Can you do 12?"

"Oh, sorry! Not on a cherry. We sell these for a little more than a regular."

"Hm… How about 13?"

She's going to say something but looks at Lobo, who smiles at her when they make eye contact. "Oh, what the heck—sure, I can do it for 13. Can't say no to a face as cute as that."

 _"Qu_ _e suerte,"_ Apollo thinks, nodding contently and counting out 13 caps before handing them to the barkeep. While she quickly counts them, he and Lobo share a look (Lobo smiling as usual) and Apollo… _winks_. It makes the boy giggle and he mimics him, winking back.

"Enjoy!" she slides the bottle over and Apollo takes it.

"Come on," he pats Lobo on the shoulder and the two step away from the counter, but Lobo is suddenly focusing on something else. He watches as the cook places a bowl of something on the windowsill. It's piping hot, and its scent is alluring.

_"Lobo?"_

"Can… Can we eat something?" he looks up to Apollo. "H-Here?"

"You… want to eat here?"

He nods.  

Apollo looks around… The mismatched tables have every kind of chair imaginable and some booths were torn out of old Drumlins. A lot of people are having a drink or eating something, all the smokers are hanging around outside, and there's absolutely no children in here besides Lobo.

"Do… you _really_ want to?" he squints.

He nods again. 

_"… Really?"_

He nods one last time.

"Ugh… Let's… Hey—what's on the menu tonight?" he asks the barkeep.

"We've got vegetable stew. Tatos, carrots, silt beans. Some razor noodles for a flair. Could I interest you in a bowl?"

"Does that sound good to you?" he asks Lobo.

"I don't know what some of those things are, but yes!"

"Ugh—y-yeah, sure, give us a bowl then."

"10 caps," the barkeep says. He doesn't fight her on this one—they already got lucky with the Nuka-Cherry, so he fishes out ten more caps. "Thanks!" She heads back: "Hey—"

_"I heard, I heard! Here!"_

The cook places another bowl of stew on the windowsill and Apollo goes to collect it.   

"Let's… go sit over here…" he leads Lobo to the table farthest away from everyone. He sits with his back against the wall and Lobo sits looking away from the entrance. He crosses his legs in his chair and asks Apollo to open the bottle of Nuka-Cherry for him.

"Thanks!" he takes a sip while Apollo pockets the cap.

"Is it good?" he asks.

 _"I love it!"_ he announces after one sip. "Do you want some?"

He shakes his hand. "I'm good. I don't like that kind of stuff, remember?"

"But… you said you've never tried it before. How do you know if you like it or not?" Lobo asks, holding the bottle between his hands.

He chuckles, thinking, _"¿Chingada—e inteligente?"_ Sitting up, he takes a breath. "Okay, fine, hand it over," he takes the bottle and has a sip. Warm. Fizzy. Thick and syrup-y. A hint of something, but he doesn't know _what_. "N… Not… bad…" he lies as the taste lingers on his tongue like a slimy coat… He passes the bottle back and Lobo takes it.

"See? It's good!" he takes another sip.

He… nods… Crazy kids. He scans the crowd while Lobo stirs his stew. "Let it cool down," he tells him.

Lobo nods, but asks, "Do you come here a lot?"

"What? No—No, almost never. Bars ugh… aren't my thing."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "I mean… I've got food at the shack. I don't drink anything that isn't water or tea. I don't… know anybody here."

"Is… Is that why people don't think you live here?"

"What?"

"The lady here said you were visiting! A-And the guy at the market asked if it was your—your first time here!"

"Oh. You… heard them." 

"Y-Yeah… You said you lived here a long time, but no one knows you! Aren't… you friends with anyone here?"

He shakes his head, huffing. "No, I don't need anymore. I'm good with Naomi."

"W-Well, what about me? Are… We're friends too, right?" Lobo looks like he's going to cry.

Apollo looks like a radstag caught in a spotlight. "Ugh—y-yeah, I mean… C-Come on, of course! That's… just…" he rolls his wrist, thinking how Naomi would phrase it: " _something that… goes… without saying_. You know? Ugh… Context. … Yeah?"

He gets happy again. "Oh! Okay! B-Because you're my friend! A-And I'm really happy you're my dad too!" he smiles. "You can be both, right?"

Apollo's mind _blanks_. He has no idea what to do or say or how to answer him. He opens his mouth to try and answer him, but chokes.

"Ugh—er—ugh—H-Hey, can I ugh… have another sip of your soda?" he changes the subject _completely_. "I think I'm coming around to it." 

Lobo gasps. "You liked it! Y-Yeah, have some more!" he reaches for his bottle, but messes up and instead knocks it over—spilling some of his precious Nuka-Cherry on the table.

They both kind of just watch it happen. The soda spills a bit and Lobo… _trembles_ —is he going to cry?

" _Ay_ , Lobo, be careful—" Apollo resets the bottle and looks for something to clean—

 _"… F-Fuck!"_ Lobo blurts out, looking upset he spilled his soda.   

Apollo _stops_. The people nearby _stop_. Lobo looks back at him looking at him.

"Wh-What?" he asks, sounding nervous.

 _"Pfft…"_ Apollo starts. _"Pfft…"_ he tries to hold back his laughter with snickering, but he can't. He breaks out into full laughter (and it's a good laugh too). _"¡A-Ay dios mío!"_ he gets out between laughs. He has to use a hand to shield his eyes. This is the _cutest_ thing the kid's ever done and he laughs and laughs and Lobo can't help but join in—he laughs at himself too. " _Shit._ I… I needed that…" he says, coming down, but chuckling. He wipes a tear out of his eye. "I-It's okay, _cach'!_ I-It didn't even spill that much!"

"You're just going to laugh?" a man asks, overhearing what happened.

Lobo jumps in his seat, hearing somebody talk in that kind of tone and about him. Apollo, still coming down, wonders who the fuck this guy thinks he is.

_"Excuse me?"_

"Are you just going to laugh? That's what you want to show him?"

Apollo chuckles. "I'm sorry man, I must have something in my fucking ear. Are you telling _me_ what _he_ can and cannot say? Because I think _you_ should mind _your_ own fucking business," he points. "If _my_ kid wants to talk shit, that's _my_ problem and mine alone."

"Really? That's how you're going to act?"

"And what of it?" he asks. He looks over at Lobo. "Go ahead—say it again."

"F-Fuck?" he says quietly.

Apollo looks back at the man. "You got a problem, still?"

"Farmers…" the man rolls his eyes, walking away. Apollo throws his middle finger at him. Lobo, unsure of what's happening, mimics Apollo, and lifts his middle finger too (but he looks confused more than anything).

" _Ay_ —one thing at a time," he gestures to lower his hand. Lobo looks at his stew, quiet. "Hey, hey, _¿qué te pasa?_ You okay?" Apollo leans closer.

"Is… he mad?" he holds his trembling left hand.

"And if he is?" Apollo asks.

"Th-That's scary…!"

"What's he going to do? You're _my_ responsibility—not his. Remember what I told you? If someone’s mean to you, you tell me, and I’ll handle it? Fucker shouldn't be eavesdropping in the first place, _pinche metiche,_ " he says last bit glancing in the direction the man went.

It’s true: Lobo _is_ his responsibility. He’s not going to let some asshole come by and scold him for saying a word.

"Don’t worry about it, okay?" he winks. "Enjoy your food and then we’ll go back to the shack when you’re good. If he tries to start shit, I'll knock his teeth out just for you, _¿de acuerdo?_ "

Lobo smiles. It’s a sweet little smile too. He enjoys his stew and talks to Apollo about the vegetables in it, asking what they are, how they grow, and if they’re tasty in anything else. They have a great dinner and when Lobo's had enough of the bar, he asks if they can go walking outside before heading back to the shack. Apollo agrees and they walk down the road, away from the loop and towards the bridge. Lobo holds onto Apollo's shirt while he tries something new, too: balancing on the curbside (Apollo tells Lobo to pass him back the bag, since they're done with the quest and Lobo obliges). He's in love with New Sanctuary at night; the stars are so bright, and galaxy's clouds are a sight to be seen. When Lobo starts to yawn and rub his eyes though, Apollo guides him back to his shack.

"Mushroom! We're back!" Lobo jogs to the bathroom while Apollo puts his machete and gun next to his bed. He overhears him telling the mushroom about the stew he ate, and he chuckles to himself. He lies back on his bed while Lobo steps out with his mushroom. He places it down next to him and he gets comfortable in his sleeping bag.

But Apollo perks up when he hears Lobo adjust the mushroom's can.

And again.

_… And again._


End file.
